The IT Guy
by Azkabella
Summary: AU: After the Maitland kids outgrow their need for a nanny, Clara Oswald lands a job at TARDIS Industries, the world's leading company for technological research. It is there that she meets a man they call 'The Doctor', and the next chapter of their lives begins.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

TARDIS Industries was the world leader in innovative technological research and production. Clara Oswald still couldn't believe she'd managed to get an interview at the London-based company, even if it was just for a receptionist's position. She'd moved to London after she finished school to look after the Maitland children following their mother's death. While she didn't regret her decision to serve as a nanny for the past three years, Clara was certain that a few A-levels and experience in childminding didn't make her resume stand out in the pile.

But she got an interview. Clara took the train into the city and tried to fit in with the business men and women walking about in their finely tailored suits as they sipped coffees from Nero and chatted on their expensive mobile phones. The TARDIS offices were located in one of London's iconic skyscrapers, and she had to go through a metal detector and get a badge at the security desk before she was directed towards the lifts. Clara looked down at her badge, which even had her name printed on it, and thought of the security system at the Maitland's house. She still remembered the code – 792227.

Clara second-guessed every life decision she'd ever made on the ride up to the eleventh floor. She tapped her foot on the tile floor, grateful that most of the other lift passengers had gotten off on the fifth floor so she could fidget in peace. Once the doors opened to the TARDIS offices, however, Clara set her shoulders back and walked confidently into the large, sweeping room that took up the entire floor.

She paused to stare at everything around her. It was a very modern arrangement, all clean lines and soft lights. The sound of the ringing telephone was even more pleasant than jarring. Clara smiled, immediately falling in love with the place. She approached the reception desk, where a redheaded temp asked her who she was there to see.

"Madam Vastra," she replied, feeling her faux confidence seep out of her pores when the woman met her eyes.

"Ah, yes. You're the new receptionist."

"Oh, no," Clara said with a smile and a polite laugh. "I mean, hopefully. It's just an interview."

"Not from what I heard."

"Pardon?"

The woman nodded towards something over Clara's shoulder, and when Clara turned, she saw a tall, elegant woman standing there with a patient smile on her lips. "You must be Clara Oswald."

Madam Vastra gave her a quick tour of the offices; apparently the majority of what Clara saw was just the marketing division. Several other floors housed the other departments, as well as the research and development labs. Clara was fascinated by everything and everyone she saw. The tour ended when they took a seat in Vastra's office. Clara sat awkwardly on the edge of the seat in front of Madam Vastra's desk, watching the woman take a sip of her coffee with curiosity.

"So, Ms Oswald—may I call you Clara?"

Clara nodded.

"Excellent. If you could describe yourself in one word, what word would you choose?"

Vastra crossed rested her arms on the surface of her desk and watched Clara curiously. Clara's lips parted as she tried to think of a word, any word, but nothing came to mind. She felt like her brain was malfunctioning. "I dunno. I suppose… Hard-working?"

Vastra smiled and shook her head. "Don't tell me what you think I want to hear. Tell me what you really feel about yourself."

Clara stared blankly at the nameplate on Madam Vastra's desk and then said, "Feisty."

That earned a small chortle of amusement. "Really?"

Clara nodded and gave a non-committal shrug.

"And if you could describe TARDIS Industries in one word, which would you choose?"

She thought long and hard about that one. "Future."

"Good," Madam Vastra replied, unsuccessfully holding back a smile. "And how do you think 'feisty' will add to the 'future', Ms Oswald?"

"Smashingly," Clara offered, earning another laugh. This was not how she expected a job interview at a major company to go.

"I would imagine so. You're from Blackpool?"

"Yes."

Madam Vastra pulled out a piece of paper that Clara recognized as her resume. "You moved to London in 2008?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Madam Vastra's eyes rose to meet Clara's in what was one of the most intense and peculiar moments of Clara's life. She felt like the woman was trying to peer into her soul, as if she could read her thoughts and tell if she were lying. Clara tried not to fidget in her seat.

"When can you start?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

There were only so many cups of coffee Clara could see before she broke down and fetched a cup for herself. After she handed back her visitor's pass to the security office and walked past the metal detector, Clara searched the street for the nearest coffee shop, grateful to find a café just a block away from where she stood.

She couldn't believe she had a job—an actual, proper job with a desk and a pay check and, hopefully, more mature co-workers. It was strange how oddly all the pieces had fallen into place. The temp at reception and Madam Vastra had both treated her like they knew more of her than what was in her pathetic resume. Clara's father had given her tons of advice about the interview process, most of which she hadn't asked for but she listened to anyway. She had expected more probing questions about her past, about teamwork, about expected pay, etc. She felt like this job had fallen in her lap. She was suspicious to a degree, but Clara was far too grateful to start drawing up conspiracy theories.

When she entered the café, the sounds of honking cabs and heels clicking on the pavement were replaced by the hissing steam of the espresso machine and the dull hum of idle chatter. Clara walked a few paces towards the back of the queue and immediately felt like she was being watched.

She inhaled deeply and released the breath, reminding herself not to be paranoid. Caffeine probably wasn't the best solution to her nervous mood, but when she got to the bar she ordered a vanilla latte with an extra shot of espresso. There was no turning back now.

As she moved to the other side of the bar, Clara glanced around the shop curiously. It was a small place, but it was filled to the brim with workers and the odd tourist. Clara checked her phone and saw that it was just around lunch hour. Her interview didn't feel like it had run that long.

"Vanilla latte for Clara!"

Clara thanked the barista and grabbed her drink from the bar. She was poised to take the first sip when she turned and ran headlong into a tall man in a brown suit. They both took a step back and apologized, their tones high pitched with surprise. A bit of foam had spurted out of her cup and splashed across his white shirt.

"I'm so sorry!" she said, mortified.

Flustered, she grabbed a few napkins from the bar, but the man was already offering her a polite and embarrassed smile. He had nice teeth, and hair. And really beautiful brown eyes.

"It's just a bit of foam; should come right out."

"I'm so sorry, again. It's awfully crowded in here."

He nodded. "Yeah. Fills to the brim around this time during the week. I usually try to come later, but I've got a meeting in half an hour."

"Oh?" she said, keeping the conversation going. It wasn't every day that she ran headlong into an attractive, friendly man… and spilled coffee on him. A part of her brain wouldn't allow her to forget that part. "Where do you work?"

"Uh, TARDIS Industries."

"Oh?" she said, chiding herself silently for sounding like a dim parrot. "I've just got a job there. Receptionist, marketing."

"Lovely. I work in research."

"Ah, you're one of the _brains_."

He laughed. "You could say that."

"Cappuccino for David at the bar!" called the barista, grabbing the man's attention. Clara watched him disappear into the small crowd that separated them from the coffee bar, but then he returned. "Well, it was nice to meet you…?"

Clara watched him with a smile, wondering what he was going to say next. She felt a jolt of embarrassment when she realized he was prompting her for her name. Clara lowered the sleeve on her cup and showed him the name written in permanent marker.

He squinted at it. "Elana?"

Clara glanced at the name. "I swear, a barista's handwriting is in the same realm of a doctor's. Clara."

"Ah, well. Nice to meet you, Clara. I'm David."

"Nice to meet you, David."

She watched him leave, smiling giddily to herself. He hadn't been overly flirtatious, but he had that sort of easy charm that was infectious. Clara snapped out of her daze when someone brushed against her elbow and reminded her of the pressing need to find a seat or head outside. There weren't any seats available, so she headed towards the door, not really sure what she was going to do next. As she wove through the ever growing crowd, Clara got that feeling again like she was being watched. She couldn't shake it, but chalked it up to lingering nerves from her interview. Once she was out the door, she got a call from her friend Nina.

"Nina, hi! Yes—I got the job!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The moment her alarm sounded that morning, Clara rolled off her mattress with a groan and landed on the floor. It wasn't a hard fall since her mattress was currently on the floor of her new flat in West Croydon. Rolling onto the floor had been the most effective way for her to wake up during the past week, and Clara worried what she would do when she finally did raise the mattress a good two or three feet in the air.

As she brushed her teeth, Clara thought about her first week at TARDIS Industries and how well she was settling in. She had been rather intimidated by the office setting, especially one that belonged to such a huge and important company, but everyone was very friendly and the computers and telephone systems weren't difficult to learn. She felt like she had most of her daily routines down, so all that was left was to make them become second-hand nature to her.

She said goodbye to Nina on her way out the door. Nina was her best friend from school, a gorgeous girl with curly hair and dark skin that worked in human relations at a small publishing agency. She had been living in the city for a while, but her last flatmate had been her ex-boyfriend, who vacated the flat rather unceremoniously when their relationship fell to pieces. She'd been struggling to pay rent for weeks until Clara told her that she was moving out of the Maitlands' house. It was small and a long commute from the city, but Clara didn't mind the train ride. She would read or sip her coffee as she listened to music, her thoughts usually a million miles away.

It was the end of the month, which was when Clara was supposed to upload a huge database file to the main server. It was a file she was supposed to work on all month, and even though it was her only second week on the job, she had put a lot of work into it. That was why she had to stifle a wail of agony when her computer froze

"No," she gasped. "No, no no no…"

She clicked the mouse frantically. Nothing.

Clara picked up the phone and quickly dialled the extension for Jenny Flint, the office administrator. Clara was still having trouble understanding who does what and what their titles are, but she made friends with Jenny right away.

"Jenny Flint."

"Jenny? It's Clara. My computer's frozen. Bad. I hadn't saved the database file for the monthly report and… I-I don't know what to do," she said rapidly, overwhelmed with gut-wrenching panic.

"You should call the Doctor."

"The who?"

Jenny laughed. "Yeah, it's what they call him downstairs. He works in IT. They should call him the magician more like; it's closer to a miracle what he does with a computer."

"What's his actual name?" Clara asked, already pulling out her telephone directory book.

"You know, I dunno. I never really asked. Always just called him Doctor."

"OK, thanks Jenny," Clara said before hanging up the phone. She then picked it up again and dialled the extension listed for the IT department.

"IT."

"Um, hello. This is Clara up in marketing. I was told to ask for the Doctor?"

"Speaking."

"Oh." He didn't sound at all like she expected. "My computer's frozen."

"Have you tried rebooting?" he asked, sounding rather bored.

"Well, I was sort of hoping to avoid that because I might lose a huge database file if I do, and I really don't want to get sacked my second week in."

If she wasn't mistaken, he chortled in response to that. "What did you say your name was?"

"Clara—Oswald. Marketing. New receptionist?"

"Ah, right. Yes," he said, his tone suddenly shifting. Clara got that funny feeling again. "I'll be right up."

The line went dead. Clara stared at the phone for a moment before returning her attention to her frozen computer. She knew she should leave it be, but she was hoping that it would magically unfreeze if she a certain sequence of keys. At one point she typed _you useless fucking fuck_ over and over again with no response from the machine. That was when the buzzer alerted her to someone at the door.

Clara looked up and saw a tall, lanky man with the most unusual face standing on the other side of the glass. He nodded to her and she realised this must be 'The Doctor'. She buzzed him in and he approached her with an almost sheepish look on his face.

"Are you the Doctor?" she asked, trying not to grimace at the unusual title.

"Yes."

"Thank god."

Clara scooted back in her chair and stood to give him access to the desktop.

He cast a sideways glance in her direction, coughed lightly, and then sat down in her chair. His knees hit the desk when he attempted to scoot forward and Clara hid a smile behind her hand.

"Blimey. How short are you?" he asked, searching for the lever that lowered the chair.

"Oi," she replied in a sharp but playful tone.

She watched as he started typing sequences of keys on the keyboard like he was playing classical piano. He pulled up a blue screen and Clara gasped as he started entering in some sort of code.

"How did you do that?" she asked eagerly, impressed.

"Shh, busy," he replied.

She was too busy staring at his long fingers as he continued to type and wondering when bow ties came back into fashion to notice when he'd finished.

"It should be all there. Might have lost a few changes to your database file, but your computer is set up with an automatic backup every Thursday at midnight, so you're really lucky to have saved so much."

Clara released a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding and smiled gratefully. "Thank you so much. I really can't—you saved my life."

He smiled tightly as he stood. "Just doing my job."

"Of course," she replied less enthusiastically, worrying suddenly that she was being unprofessional. "Sorry, I didn't catch your name?"

He stared at her for a moment, a thoughtful smile on his face before he turned towards the door with a slight shrug. "People just call me the Doctor."

Clara watched him slip through the glass door and disappear around the corner. It was a solid five seconds later that she realised she was staring at empty space and sat back down at her computer, determined to finish her work so she could leave at a reasonable hour. She didn't leave the office until seven because her thoughts kept wandering to the strange man with the odd manners and funny chin.

Also, her computer froze again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The Doctor's desk was terribly cluttered, more so than usual. While the electronics were clean and dust free, he had several post-it notes tacked here and there with outdated reminders, pens and pencils and permanent markers that were broken or out of ink, USB flash drives scattered about like fallen leaves, cords and cables for devices that became redundant at least five years ago, and several cups of half-drunk tea.

Thomas Strax stared at the chaos with a frown on his face and his hands on his hips. He was tired of the mess, tired of watching his co-worker nearly destroy his equipment by spilling old tea all over his keyboard like it were some daily ritual. One of the post-its was so old and so tea-stained that the ink had bled and the words were barely legible. The Doctor even had to fix it to the edge of his monitor with a piece of transparent tape since the adhesive on the back no longer performed its basic function.

Strax never understood such sentiment. His desk was perfectly neat and organised, everything in its proper place and absolutely no liquids anywhere near the electronics.

He was just about to step forward and remove the first of the many cups of cold tea when the door to the office opened and in stepped the Doctor, whistling like a boy whose just been let out of school.

"Hello, Strax! Having a good morning?"

Strax scowled. He wasn't sure he liked his co-worker's cheery mood more or less than the sullen one he'd been sporting this past year. "No."

"Thought not. Fancy popping out for some breakfast? I'm sure they won't miss us too much if we step out for half an hour."

"Sir, it's the first of the month!" Strax said, his cheeks flushing at the very thought of abandoning work.

The Doctor frowned. "I thought I told you to stop calling me _Sir._"

"Sorry, Sir."

The Doctor's frown deepened and he thrust a finger in Strax's face.

"Sorry. Just sorry."

At first Strax was relieved at the return of the Doctor's dour demeanour, but he found the flash of darkness more unsettling than his off-key rendition of Sam Cooke tunes. He just wished that they could both get back to work and focus on the menial tasks that Strax enjoyed so much. That was why the Doctor started working in the IT department, anyway; it was meant to distract him from the past.

"You seem to be in a good mood?" Strax offered, hoping to divert attention from his faux pas.

The Doctor smiled, almost having forgotten. "Yes, I find I am."

Strax watched his friend remove his coat and scarf and toss them with a playful flourish onto the hooks by the door. It was amazing how someone so naturally disposed to tangling his limbs around telephone cords could pull such a thing off. The Doctor's life became infinitely easier when the office upgraded to cordless everything.

"Anything in particular bring it on?" Strax asked curiously. He could really care less, but he liked to think he and the Doctor had a bond, and also Jenny and Vastra were always hounding him for information on the Doctor's precious _feelings_.

"Just a good night's sleep, is all," the Doctor replied airily, tapping his fingers on the surface of his desk like he were playing a piano.

"No more nightmares, then?"

The Doctor didn't look up at Strax. Instead, his gaze focused on the faded post-it note taped to his monitor. "No," he replied, another tight smile stretching across his face as he looked over at Strax. "Just sleep."

He flicked the post-it lightly with his finger before clapping his other hand on Strax's shoulder and bounding towards the door. "C'mon, Straxy. Let's you a breakfast sandwich and a good cup of tea."

Strax frowned but followed the Doctor to the door, grabbing his coat while the other man redressed in the clothes he'd just taken off. He never understood him. "What about our work?"

"What are they going to do?" the Doctor replied with a cheeky grin. "Fire me?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Clara started breaking into a nervous sweat as she dashed towards TARDIS Industries that morning. Her train had been delayed half an hour due to either maintenance or traffic, and now she was nearly ten minutes late for work. It was only her second week on the job and she just knew this was a sackable offense. Who was answering the phones? Who was letting visitors in? Who was signing for packages and working on the logs for the month?

Over the weekend, a work crew had constructed scaffolding all along the entrance of the building. Clara didn't know what they were working on, even though all the employees had been given a memo the week before explaining why the crew would be doing repairs to the entrance facade for the next week.

Clara hated constructions sites, especially whenever she had to walk under scaffolding or listen to a jackhammer all day. The Maitlands' neighbours had done renovations on their house a few years ago and every morning, Clara would wake up to the sound of hammering, sawing, and men shouting filtering in through her window. She was now conditioned to scowl whenever she saw men at work.

The door to the building opened just as Clara was ten feet away. She attempted to trot towards the door in a dignified manner, still rushing to get to her desk even though she was certain it was too late to salvage her job. Her anxiety about her tardiness was quickly forgotten when something crashed overhead and she heard one of the workers cry out.

"Watch out!" she cried as a heavy bucket fell towards the pavement, right where a man who'd just left the building was now walking.

Clara didn't even think as she flew towards him, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist as she used her momentum to pull him out of harm's way. The bucket cracked when it hit the pavement and heavy industrial paste splattered onto the ground.

The man grabbed hold of Clara as her feet tangled beneath her and he nearly fell backward with her. Clara stood up straight and met his eyes, adrenaline causing her heart to thump rapidly in her chest. She recognized him immediately.

"It's you," she said, surprised. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," the Doctor replied, although his eyes were round as saucers as they stared at the bucket that had nearly crushed him. "Thank you. You're a lot stronger than you look."

Clara laughed nervously and took a step back. The crew raced over to apologise to them both, and for the next two minutes they both assured them that they were fine and, while it was not said outright, that they weren't going to file complaints. Clara forgot all about her lateness until the crewmen left them standing in front of the doorway alone and the Doctor offered to buy her breakfast.

"Oh! I can't. Thank you… Sorry. I'm really late for work."

"I noticed. It's okay; they can do without you for twenty minutes. You did just have a near death experience."

"_You_ did," she corrected. "I'm fairly certain they won't turn a blind eye to my late arrival on account of it."

"Oh no, please—I insist. Unless you really don't want to, of course," he added with less surety. "But you needn't worry about your job. Madam Vastra will understand."

"She will?" Clara replied dubiously.

"Yeah," he said with a little grin of satisfaction. "I'll call in a favour."

"Why would you do that?" Clara asked, grateful but curious.

The Doctor met her eyes. "It's the least I can do."

When Clara still looked unsure, the Doctor pulled out his mobile and started a call. "Vastra, it's me. Clara's going to be in rather late this morning." There was a pause as he listened to the woman on the other line. "Well, she just saved my life, so I thought I'd buy her breakfast." Vastra's response made the Doctor's eyebrows shoot up. Clara watched with wonder as he finished the call and put his phone back in his pocket. "You're covered for the next hour, she says."

"The next _hour_?" Clara repeated in surprise.

"So, what do you say?" he asked once more, shifting on his feet.

Clara felt, like she was being rewarded for showing up late to work. She couldn't say no to the man standing in front of her; it would be ungracious, and she was far too curious to say no to an opportunity to learn more about him. Also, she'd skipped breakfast that morning.

"Alright, yeah. Got anywhere in mind?"

The Doctor led her to a café he claimed had the best scones in London. It was only a five minute walk from the office, so Clara felt a little less anxious about stepping away from work. A waitress brought them a pot of tea after they sat down and Clara found herself staring at the man in front of her as he chewed his food. He met her eyes and she smiled politely.

"So," he began after he finished chewing. "How do you find working at TARDIS Industries?"

Clara inhaled slowly and nodded. "I like it, I think. It's all still very new. I'm pretty sure my computer hates me, but everyone's nice and the work isn't hard."

The Doctor nodded along as she spoke. "Vastra seems to like you."

"Really?" Clara replied hopefully. She didn't doubt him, but Madame Vastra had a very cool demeanour. She was difficult to read.

"Really. Mm—have you tried this one?" he asked, holding up what was left of his cinnamon scone. "Incredible."

Clara chuckled and took a bite of the one that was on her plate. "Oh, yeah. These are really good."

"Aren't they?"

Clara watched him curiously. "So do people really just call you the Doctor?"

He nodded, still chewing.

"And they don't think that's weird?"

"At first, yeah. Do _you_ think it's weird?"

"Well, yeah. Sounds a bit pretentious. Are you actually a doctor?"

"What if I were? Would that be less strange?"

"Not really. What would a doctor be doing working in IT?"

He shrugged, still smiling. "Depends on the doctor."

Clara narrowed her eyes, a faint smile gracing her lips as she tried to suss him out. He was definitely weird but somehow very genuine, despite that he was obviously keeping secrets. Nobody was that reluctant to give out their name without a reason.

"So what were you doing leaving the office this morning?" she asked.

The Doctor sat back in his chair and sighed. "Going to fetch breakfast. My mate Strax was going to come with me until Maggie from sales rung about another virus." He nodded knowingly. "You know, I think she fancies him. Fifth virus she's claimed to have this month."

Clara laughed. "You get a lot of girls claiming to have viruses to get your attention?"

The Doctor's eyes lowered to the last bit of scone on his plate and the corners of his lips lifted. "No. Usually they just say their computer's frozen."

Clara's jaw dropped at his cheek. "My computer _was_ frozen."

"Yeah, it was," he conceded, grinning. He still seemed pretty satisfied with himself.

Clara hid her smile behind her cup of tea as she took another sip.

"So is this a habit of yours?" he asked. "Saving people from falling objects."

"Only when they need saving." Clara laughed lightly. "I'm sorry… I feel as if I'm in another interview."

"So do I."

"What are we interviewing for?"

"I dunno. We've got to stop asking questions."

"But how will we get to know each other better?"

The Doctor stared at her for an extended moment, and Clara felt like she should apologise. She didn't know why, but the look on his face made her feel like she'd said something wrong.

"Well," he said, sitting up straight and averting his eyes. "How indeed."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Doctor stared ahead with a rather grim expression on his face and his hands shoved in his coat pockets as they walked back from the café. Clara cast sideways glances at him, both concerned and frustrated at the sudden turn in his mood. She went over their conversation in her mind, hoping she could figure out what set him off, but she came up with nothing. Clara had felt like they were starting to get to know each other and now he was back to being a complete mystery to her.

"Looks like rain," she said as they turned a corner.

Clara always knew a conversation was suffering when the subject turned to the weather, but she would say anything just to break the silence between them.

The Doctor squinted up at the overcast sky. "It does."

Silence. Clara chewed thoughtfully on the inside of her lip. "Got a lot of work to get back to?"

"Probably. Shouldn't take long to catch up."

"That's good."

Silence. She couldn't take it anymore.

"Have I said something?" she asked before they crossed the street.

"Sorry?"

"You seem upset… Did I say something to upset you?"

The Doctor looked genuinely alarmed. "No… No. You have been nothing but wonderful, Clara. I'm just…" He struggled for words. "Not entirely myself."

Clara nodded in understanding, even though that didn't explain much. "It's alright."

She crossed the street, thinking the Doctor was beside her, but then he trotted to a stop beside her before they reached the construction at the front of the TARDIS building.

"I really appreciated your company," he insisted.

Clara turned to face him, surprised to see a sort of eagerness in his features.

"Not to mention your act of heroism earlier."

She couldn't help but laugh. She may have saved him from a terrible injury, but the last thing she considered herself was heroic. "I'd say any time, but I wouldn't recommend you linger near any more falling objects."

He smiled at her.

"I enjoyed breakfast," she added.

His smile tightened. "So did I. Another time?"

Clara nodded. "Sure."

"Hey, Clara," Jenny said as she leaned across Clara's desk at the end of the day. There was a glint in her eye and the sound of a proposition lingering in her tone. "Have you got any plans for the evening?"

"None that I can think of," Clara replied, although she was now wracking her brain for any previous engagements.

A mild look of surprise crossed Jenny's face before she pressed on. "Well then, Vastra and I were wondering if you'd like to join us for drinks. Maybe a bit to eat? It'll be our treat."

Clara's computer chimed once before shutting down, distracting her from her reply. "Oh… yes. I'd love to."

Jenny grinned and said that she and Vastra would meet at her desk in the next few minutes. Clara watched her walk towards Vastra's office and wondered how she landed a job where people laughed off showing up late to work and gave her free food. There was something funny in the water in this place. She didn't feel threatened, but she always felt like everyone else knew something she didn't.

They hopped into a cab, which Vastra paid for, to a wine bar on Embankment. They had to walk downstairs into what looked like an old cellar with sloping brick walls with exposed piping crammed full of wooden tables and chairs. Clara had never been to this place before but it was certainly atmospheric. Empty wine bottles served for candlesticks, and the flickering light made everyone's shadows dance against the wall and ceiling.

The three women sat at a free table near the far wall and did nothing but smile politely at each other while they got situated. Then a few pleasant remarks about the locale were made, and once the waiter came by and took their drink orders, there was nothing topical left to chat about.

"So, how long have you two been together?" Clara asked.

Vastra smiled and took Jenny's hand in hers, a seemingly involuntary gesture. "Almost five years now. Shortly after Jenny was hired by TARDIS Industries."

"Oh wow. Office romance," Clara said with a grin.

"Yes," Vastra replied with a grin of her own. Jenny also smiled, but tried to hide the fact by bowing her head and biting her lips. "So, the Doctor told me you performed quite the act of heroism this morning."

Clara was glad it was dark because she immediately felt her cheeks grow warm. "I suppose I did, but it feels strange to think of it as heroism."

"Don't be so modest, Clara," Jenny insisted. "I can still scarcely imagine how a girl your size could fling a man like that out of harm's way."

The waiter arrived with their wine glasses and placed them on the table in front of them. Without speaking, Jenny and Vastra switched their glasses so that the large glass of red wine was in front of Vastra.

"I suppose I don't know my own strength," Clara conceded as she swilled her glass of wine. "So, he told you about it then?"

"Oh, only briefly," Vastra said. "The Doctor and I are old friends. Besides, he wanted to make sure there were no hard feelings between us after he stole my receptionist away for the morning."

Clara realised after a moment that she was holding her breath. "Again… I am so sorry about that…"

"Don't be," Vastra replied. "If you hadn't been running late, he would probably be in the hospital right now. Or the morgue."

Jenny frowned lightly. "Cheery thought, dear."

"Well, it's true!"

Clara looked between them both. It was becoming clear that the reason they had wanted to meet her for drinks had something to do with the Doctor. There was something strange about him, something he kept hidden, and she was beginning to think that was what everyone else seemed to know about that she didn't.

"So how long have you known the Doctor?" Clara asked.

"Oh, years," Vastra replied thoughtfully. "I met him when I was still working for a rival company. TARDIS Industries was just laying the groundwork, but somehow he persuaded me to come on board."

"Really?" Clara replied with an incredulous grin. "An IT guy convinced you to leave your old job?"

Vastra's eyes widened. "It… may seem a little bizarre, but yes. He was the one who told me of the position that had opened in the marketing department."

"Ah." Clara wasn't sure she believed her, but she didn't know Vastra well enough to pry.

"Do you like your job, Clara?" Jenny asked with a friendly smile, changing the subject. "We're not working you too hard?"

"Yes, but I like keeping busy."

The conversation dwindled after a while and the women sat in a comfortable silence as they sipped their wine. Vastra asked Jenny about something to do with their lodger and Clara's mind wandered back to the Doctor. She couldn't stop thinking about that moment at breakfast when his smile faded and a grey cloud seemed to hover over him. She just then remembered that it was after she had asked about getting to know one another better.

Apparently the Doctor was on Jenny's thoughts as well. She asked if he'd helped her with her computer problem she'd had earlier that week.

"Oh, yes. It was really quite remarkable. I suppose that's why the call him the Doctor?"

"One of the reasons, yes," said Jenny.

"So is he really a doctor?"

"Not a medical doctor, no, but he does have training."

"What…" Clara laughed. "What does that even mean?"

"The Doctor is a complicated man," Vastra explained. She was on her second glass of wine and her cheeks were now a rosy pink. "I think you're good for him."

"What?" Clara replied quickly. "I barely know him."

"He's been so reclusive lately," Jenny added. "He's talked to us more in the past few days than he has in the past year."

"And you think that's because of me?" Clara felt oddly flattered, but their reasoning seemed a bit faulty. "We've seriously only had one conversation. Two if you count when my computer froze."

"Perhaps it's just because you're new," Vastra said. "Change can often be the impetus one needs to pull oneself out of a walking coma."

"A walking coma?" Clara replied giddily. Vastra was very articulate, but a bit prone to hyperbole.

"Well, yes. He hasn't been rather withdrawn ever since his wife died."

Clara stared at Vastra in disbelief. "What?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

The Doctor's eyes darted back and forth as he fiddled with the cords to Jenny and Vastra's satellite receiver. Vastra had recently mentioned that that their surround speakers had stopped working properly ever since they switched satellite carriers. The Doctor had shown up early to their party, so instead of sitting on his hands, he figured he'd make himself useful.

"Oh, _Doctor_," Jenny chided when she spotted him on his hands and knees in front of the television. "You don't have to do that."

"Nonsense! I think I've almost got it figured out. Ah!" The Doctor flinched when something shocked his finger and shook it out. He received a similar shock when he looked up to see a blonde in a tiara and a rather magnificent pink dress standing where he expected Jenny to be. "_Blimey_."

Jenny's birthday was on the same day as Hallowe'en, so every year she celebrated with a fancy dress party to which that she invited nearly half of London. The Doctor hadn't attended the year before, something Strax had made clear was unacceptable even as Jenny and Vastra attempted to discreetly discourage his insensitive behaviour.

The Doctor hopped to his feet when he finished rewiring and turned on the television to check the sound. Laughter echoed from the wireless speakers spaced strategically throughout the room. He grinned at Jenny, who thanked him with a familiar smile and a touch of her hand to his elbow. The Doctor tucked in his chin and blushed a little, but was forced to look up and grin when Vastra stepped into the living room dressed in the elaborate costume of the Wicked Witch of the West.

"Oh, it's a theme!" he observed with delight.

"And what are you supposed to be?" Vastra asked curiously.

"Isn't it… oh!"

He raised a finger, signalling for them to wait and see. He removed his jacket to reveal the red and white striped turtleneck he was sporting underneath, and then pulled a matching knit cap from his back pocket and stretched it to fit atop his head. For the finishing touch, he placed a pair of thick, square-rimmed glasses onto his nose and grinned.

"Eh?" he said proudly as he spread his arms to properly display his costume. "Where's Wally?"

Vastra and Jenny's appreciative chortling was drowned out by the ringing of the doorbell. The Doctor's smile faded as his friends disappeared to welcome the other guests, and he prepared himself for what would be an uncomfortable evening.

The Doctor would smile and socialise and be as lively as anyone could be, but he felt incredibly outnumbered. He touched the cap on his head and thought of the Christmas when Amy had given it to him. He wondered if she and Rory would be celebrating the holiday in New York, or if they were even thinking of him or River. The Doctor found they were all he could think about anymore.

Music played lightly on the background in every room; something the Doctor helped arrange by precise placement of the wireless speakers. He caught himself bobbing his head to the beat of songs he didn't even know as he snacked on sweets and popcorn balls in the kitchen. It was funny how the majority of the people at the party were TARDIS employees and he couldn't name half of them. There was a time when at least knew every face, but the Doctor had retreated so deeply into his own little corner that so many of the new employees had remained strangers to him.

Well, nearly all of the employees.

He heard her laughing in the foyer before he saw her. The Doctor slowly made his way to the dining room doorway from where he watched her greet Jenny and Vastra with warm hugs. He smiled when he saw her costume—Princess Leia's iconic costume and hairstyle from the first _Star Wars_ film. He sipped his drink and watched her put away her coat and hand Jenny a small wrapped gift.

The Doctor found everything about Clara Oswald endearing. She had a way of truly engaging with people, even those who'd become disconnected and even a little standoffish after working too long in commercial London. They had only met a handful of times, yet already he could feel himself drawn to her, as if he were a fish on a hook and she kept reeling him in.

"May the Force be with you," he greeted when she approached. He didn't know if she had walked his way to see him or if he'd just crossed her path. "Love the hair."

"Thank you. I'm surprised I was even able to spot you," she joked, laughing pathetically at her little joke. "I was always rubbish at _Where's Wally."_

The Doctor chuckled. Clara looked at him expectedly and, after a moment, he realised that he was probably supposed to say something. "Er—Can I fetch you a drink?"

She inhaled slowly as she waged some internal debate before grinning. "Yes, please! This _is_ a party, after all."

"It is, indeed."

They stayed in the kitchen for half an hour after he handed Clara her first drink chatting about everything and nothing. The Doctor realised he was keeping her from mingling with other people, but could care less whenever he made her laugh. He was tempted to ask her about last summer, but he backed down every time the opportunity presented itself. Besides—it was pretty obvious she didn't remember him.

Clara's laughter unfortunately served as a beacon for an unexpected guest at the party, who appeared beside them as if he'd materialised out of thin air. The Doctor didn't know whether or not to smile or groan at his arrival.

"Turning on the charm already, Doctor?" Jack greeted with a toothy grin. He was dressed in a white and navy airline pilot's uniform, the matching hat tucked under his left arm as he offered Clara his right hand. "The name's Jack, by the way. How do you do?"

"I am fine, thank you very much," Clara replied, sounding impressed than she should. "I'm Clara."

"Well _hello_, Clara," Jack said roguishly before pressing a light kiss to the back of her hand. Clara giggled, and the Doctor selfishly hoped it was because she'd had too much to drink.

"Would you _please_ stop?" the Doctor pleaded in exasperation.

"What?" Jack said defensively.

The Doctor rolled his eyes and finished Jack's sentence for him. "You were just saying hello. You know you haven't said hello to _me_ yet."

He regretted the words immediately. Jack took the Doctor's hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it as well. "No need to be so jealous."

"What are you even doing here?" the Doctor asked, suppressing a smile even as he pulled his hand away. Jack was impossible, but it was good to see him.

"You didn't think I'd miss a party like this, did you?"

Clara looked a little lost as she glanced between them both, so the Doctor added, "Jack works for the Cardiff office."

"Oh. I didn't even know there was a Cardiff office," she admitted with a little laugh of embarrassment.

"I take it you're new to the company?" Jack said.

Clara nodded. "Only two months in."

"Are you liking it?" Jack asked, leaning ever so slightly closer towards Clara.

The Doctor shifted uncomfortably where he stood and folded his arms. "Captain Harkness?"

Jack tore his gaze from Clara. "Hmm?"

"Why do you have a badge on that says Captain Harkness?" the Doctor asked, eyeing Jack suspiciously. He added to Clara, "He's not really an airline pilot."

A look of betrayal crossed Jack's features before his trademark grin reappeared. "So… Long story."

Five minutes later they were laughing loud enough to draw the attention of the entire party. Jack offered to freshen up the Doctor and Clara's drinks and then disappeared to the bar after giving the Doctor a conspiratorial wink.

"So…" The Doctor began awkwardly. "Are you a big _Star Wars_ fan?"

"I was when I was a kid. I had all the little figurines on a shelf in my bedroom. My friend Nina teased me mercilessly when she found it. Called it my secret shrine of shame."

The Doctor laughed.

"So what does this Jack Harkness do?" Clara asked curiously as she watched the dark-haired man chat up Cleopatra while he scooped ice cubes into their glasses.

The Doctor frowned. "His last name isn't Harkness," he insisted. "He's one of the head salesmen in Cardiff. He worked in London for a long time before transferring a few years ago."

"Why did he transfer?"

"I think his name was Alonso."

Clara's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Ah, gotcha."

Jack returned with full glasses for them both. Clara immediately took a large sip and the Doctor watched her warily. She was drinking awfully quickly for a person her size, but he wasn't anyone's mother. He took a sip of his own drink and nearly spat the liquid all over Jack's white uniform. "It's a good thing you're not a barman. Did you even add any orange juice to this?"

Jack shrugged and laughed defensively. Clara spotted someone she knew from marketing and excused herself. The Doctor watched her weave through the crowd into the lounge with a surge of disappointment.

"So, who is she?" Jack asked knowingly as he leaned against the kitchen counter next to the Doctor and sipped his own drink.

"I wish I knew," he replied enigmatically.

Hours later, the crowd had thinned considerably even though the noise level of the party continued to grow. Jack was in the dining room telling stories about his university days that left everyone around him struggling to breathe between fits of laughter. Jenny had to pull Strax away from a terrified couple he'd chased out of his bedroom with firecrackers. The Doctor could hear her screaming about him burning the house down even as he trotted upstairs to the bathroom.

He knocked twice to make sure no one was inside and the door swung open at his touch. He froze when he saw the familiar silhouette of Princess Leia draped over the rim of the toilet.

"Clara?"

She squinted up at him. "I haven't gotten sick," she insisted, then groaned. "Although I really, _really_ wish that I would."

The Doctor shut the door behind him and then knelt beside her on the floor. "Too much to drink?" he asked, pulling strands of loose hair from her eyes. She nodded and leaned into his touch. Her cheeks were warm. "Do you need some water?" he asked, unsure of what to do.

Clara shook her head. "God, I'm so embarrassed."

"It's alright," he assured her softly as he continued to smooth her hair back.

The Doctor became acutely aware of his heartbeat when she met his eyes. "I don't usually drink like this… Ugh, and at my boss' house."

"Shh, it's alright," he insisted as she sank against his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her and shifted to where he was sitting with his back against the bathtub. "You're not at work now, Clara. It's alright."

"You're so nice," she mumbled into his jumper. "Why are you so nice?

He held her to him and smiled fondly. "Because you've always been so nice to me. Even though you don't remember…"

"What?"

He rubbed her arm soothingly. "Nothing." He sighed. "We should probably get you home to bed."

Clara groaned and tugged weakly at his jumper when he tried to stand. He chuckled and settled back against the tub and placed his hand on top of her head.

"I suppose we could wait a few more minutes."

They sat in silence for the longest time. The Doctor felt her breathing slow and looked down to see that she'd fallen asleep. She looked so uncomfortable, so he tried holding her closer, but feared she'd wake up and get the wrong idea. Luckily someone walked in on them and they were forced to leave, but Clara was reluctant to move.

The Doctor lifted her into his arms and carried her downstairs. Jack spotted them and walked over, offering to drive them both home and he grabbed all of their coats. The Doctor made sure Jenny and Vastra knew that they were all leaving before he helped Clara into the back seat of Jack's car.

"Clara? Hey." He patted her cheek lightly as her head lolled against the seatbelt. "What's your address?"

She didn't open her eyes. The Doctor looked helplessly to the driver's seat, but Jack could only shrug.

"Clara? Can you hear me?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

Clara groaned and clutched her head, but didn't open her eyes. Her limbs felt heavy and hollow and her stomach ached dully. She buried her face in her pillow and whimpered pathetically before inhaling the unfamiliar scent of the pillowcase. A flood of other little details then assaulted her senses, like the softness of the sheets and the general quiet that settled around her. Clara opened her eyes and sat up quickly, which made the world spin and her stomach churn. She sank back against the pillow as her unfamiliar surroundings swam into view.

She didn't know where she was. Clara took note of what she did know: she was still in her Princess Leia costume from the night before, but the plastic belt and cinnamon bun-shaped hair clips were on the nightstand next to the bed. She remembered getting in a car, but everything directly before and after that was a dark and hazy blur. Groaning, she climbed out of bed and her feet sank into the soft rug on the floor. She didn't feel much better standing. Clara hugged herself as she padded over to the bedroom door and pulled at the handle.

The door opened to reveal the main part of an extremely modern, high-end flat. Everything was either sharp angles or smooth curves and a pristine shade of white. The floor plan was open so that the lounge, dining, and kitchen areas flowed seamlessly from one room to another. Clara stared at everything in awe, wondering who she could possibly know who could afford a place like this.

She spotted him on the sofa in the corner of the lounge. The tall windows that took up nearly the entire wall were covered with thick drapes to keep the sunlight out, but a few pesky wisps filtered in through the cracks between the fabrics. It was enough light to allow her to recognise his familiar features.

Clara was struck by how out of place the Doctor looked in this environment. She had only ever seen him in the TARDIS offices or out and about in London and never imagined him living in a place such as this. It was far too modern and clean, hardly suitable a barmy man who wore a tweed coat and a bow tie to work.

Frown lines marred his face while he slept. Clara vaguely remembered him finding her in the bathroom at Jenny and Vastra's and could imagine how she'd gotten from there to here. She felt a surge of gratitude that rivalled her embarrassment at the idea of him seeing her in such a state. She hated that she'd put him out; he didn't look very comfortable on the sofa.

"Doctor," she said softly.

Clara placed her hand on his shoulder and shook gently, and almost immediately he swung his arm out to strike.

Clara grabbed his fist with both hands and stared at him with wide eyes. Her heart pounded heavily in her chest as his eyes met hers and she waited for him to show signs of lucidity.

His eyes widened with alarm. "Clara."

She didn't know what to say or do, so she just stood there. The Doctor sat up and ran his hands over his face. He was clearly very shaken by whatever had just happened but was doing his best to suppress it. Clara found herself doing same out of respect. She was desperate to ask, but knew there was no good answer for why someone would awaken so violently.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, standing. She had almost forgotten how tall he was.

"Fairly rotten."

The Doctor scratched the back of his head and stretched. Clara found the sight of him in his t-shirt and grey sweatpants incredibly bizarre. She wasn't used to him looking so normal.

"Would you like something to eat? Coffee?" he asked.

Clara nodded gratefully, even though the idea of eating made her stomach turn. "Yes, please."

He led her into the kitchen, where she took a seat at the table and he rummaged through the cupboards. They were pretty empty, save for a large container of coffee grounds and several boxes of the same brand of tea. In fact, the entire flat was pretty stark. Either he lived one hell of a Spartan lifestyle, or he didn't spend a lot of time here.

"Nice place," she said. "Did you just move in?"

His back was to her when he chuckled. "Lived here for a little over a year, actually," he said as he scooped coffee grounds. "Never really got around to nesting."

The Doctor filled the percolator with water and then turned it on. Almost immediately it began to emit the familiar sounds of bubbling water.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get you home last night," he said before turning to face her. "You weren't exactly forthcoming with your address."

Clara bowed her head and grimaced. "I am _so_ sorry. I really don't know how to thank you. You really shouldn't have given up your bed…" She didn't mean to sound ungrateful; Clara just hated to think of how much trouble he put himself through to make her comfortable.

"Don't be silly."

The sound of the percolator filled the silence around them as their eyes met. Clara covered her face with her hands and groaned when a memory from last night suddenly resurfaced.

"Oh my _god_. I threw up in your car."

The Doctor laughed. "Actually, you threw up in Jack's car, but I guarantee that karma had a hand in that." He smiled fondly at her, as if the sight of her vomiting in his lap had been the highlight of his evening. "You seemed to feel better afterwards."

Clara shook her head with shame and hesitantly lifted her head from her hands. "I am so, so sorry…"

"Well, you are quite forgiven. We've all been there at one point."

"I hate that you had to see me like that. I'm not much of a drinker normally."

"I could tell."

Clara frowned at him, but he just continued to smile. The Doctor seemed rather pleased to be in her company, despite the fact that she'd vomited all over his trousers the night before and evicted him from his bedroom.

"Did you want toast or anything else? I think I've got some bread…"

He opened the pantry door and lifted a half-used bag of bread to his nose and sniffed. Clara rose from her chair and walked over to stand beside him. "I can do that."

"No, don't be silly…"

"Please. You've done enough for me already. Besides, I'm quite skilled at operating a toaster."

The Doctor stepped aside with a chuckle. Clara pulled two pieces of bread from the bag and placed them in the toaster.

She felt incredibly uncomfortable. It was the situation more than the man, although the Doctor's general presence was usually unsettling in a way. Clara felt like he learned more about her each time they met, and yet he remained as enigmatic as ever. Seeing him at home actually raised more questions than it answered, but he was starting to solidify into something more real, as opposed to this amorphous impression she had of him.

"So where are we, exactly?" she asked.

"Belgravia," he answered from behind the refrigerator door as he pulled out a jar of marmalade and a small tub of spreadable butter.

Clara nearly jumped out of her skin when the bread popped out of the toaster. They operated in silence as they prepared their toast, the Doctor moving about to fetch plates and butter knives for them to use. Despite how awkward the situation was and how little she knew of the man she was eating toast with, Clara felt oddly calm in his presence. He seemed like someone who was used to taking care of people, judging by how effortlessly he went out of his way to care for her, and little about him was threatening, aside from all that remained unknown.

They ate in silence. Clara couldn't help but notice that he took a bite of toast every time she did, or perhaps it was the other way around. She didn't think it was intentional, just strange. When they finally remembered the coffee, the Doctor poured them each a mugful and then they each took a seat at the corner of the kitchen table.

"Are you originally from London?" Clara asked as she blew on the surface of her coffee.

"Nottingham, actually. What about you?"

"Blackpool."

"_Aha_. I thought you were from Lancashire," he replied with a subdued amount of pride in his calculation.

"Well done," she said dryly. "How long have you lived in London?"

The Doctor shrugged and looked down at his cup of coffee. "Since I was fifteen. When my parents died."

Clara frowned. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," he assured her with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "It's been over a decade."

"My mum died when I was sixteen. It's almost been ten years, and yet it still feels like I lost her yesterday."

The Doctor met her eyes, his lips pressed into a thin line. He reached for her hand and Clara accepted the gesture with a soft squeeze. It pained her to look at this kind, generous man and think of him all alone in this bare flat. She could only imagine the pain he must suffer, having lost both of his parents and his wife.

"I should probably go," she said softly. The Doctor lowered his hand and Clara immediately felt guilty. "A family friend has a flute recital tonight and she'll kill me if I miss it."

"Ah, right. Flautist, eh? They can be rather… tenacious."

Clara chuckled. "I take it you have experience?"

His expression as he nodded made her laugh again. He smiled at her, and Clara wished she could think of a good reason to stay that wouldn't involve her imposing upon him any further.

The Doctor practically leapt from his chair when he remembered her coat. She checked the pockets for her keys, wallet, and mobile, frowning when she saw several texts from Angie and Nina. The Doctor walked her to the door and Clara smiled as he opened it for her. He was putting on quite a show of gallantry.

"Thanks again. For everything."

"Of course. I supposed I owed you after what you did for me. You know, the bucket."

Clara laughed lightly. She hadn't forgotten.

His gaze softened. "But I'd do it again if you needed me to."

The way he looked at her was disarming. "Let's hope you never need to," she said with a laugh.

She didn't know how to end this, and the Doctor appeared to share her uncertainty. They both laughed lightly and then Clara reached up to wrap her arms around his neck in a friendly hug. She panicked immediately, calming only slightly when he loosely returned the hug. Seconds later she was walking towards the lifts and his door clicked closed behind her, but her thoughts remained in his flat even hours later when she was at Angie's recital.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

"Are you sure?"

Clara almost glared at Jenny. "Yes, now go! Your brother doesn't turn twenty-four every day."

Jenny remained fixed to the spot by the door, her hand gripping her bag tightly as she cast another worried glance Clara's way.

"Tell him Happy Birthday for me," Clara insisted.

Jenny sighed with resignation. "Thanks again, Clara. I owe you!"

When the glass door clicked shut behind Jenny, Clara released a sigh. She glanced around at all of the empty desks and chairs that littered the marketing office like she expected something to be lurking in the quiet, but there wasn't.

"Alone at last," she muttered before returning her attention to her computer.

Madam Vastra was leaving for Tokyo in the morning and she was expecting an important package that needed to go with her. Jenny offered to stay late and sign for it, but it was her brother's birthday and their relationship wasn't on the solidest foundation. Clara didn't have any big plans for her Friday night so she volunteered to stay behind.

Now she was faced with a big decision: should she do more work until the package arrived or watch something on Netflix? She didn't really have a lot of work to do since her job revolved around maintaining daily operations, and now the day was done. She didn't really fancy watching a movie at the moment, so it was with another sigh that she opened up her internet browser and signed in to her e-mail account.

She only had a few messages in her inbox: one from Angie, who had attached several pictures from her flute recital; a forwarded message from her dad that Clara deleted before reading because she was tired of him trying to brainwash her with his political propaganda; and then one from Nina about the clogged drain in their bathroom. Clara grunted in annoyance at the last one, and almost immediately after the sound left her lips another one called her attention to the door.

Clara nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of the knocking, but relaxed when she saw who was standing on the other side. She pressed the buzzer that allowed the Doctor to walk in and she watched him approach with heightened curiosity. "What are you doing here?"

"Jenny mentioned you were staying late for a delivery. I thought I'd keep you company."

Clara grinned incredulously. "Really?"

"Yeah," he replied with a grin of his own as he leaned against the top of her desk. "You're not actually working right now, are you?"

"Well, I _am_ a vital employee," she teased. "I have several important tasks, of which I…" She gave up mid-sentence. "No. I'm pretty much just sitting on my hands. You don't have any plans for the evening?" she added sceptically.

The Doctor stood up and waved a dismissive hand. "_Plans_. Never was much of one for plans. They take all the spontaneity out of life."

She couldn't help but giggle in response to that. "And you're Mr Spontaneous?"

"Little bit," he replied, standing up straight as he straightened his bow tie.

Clara stared up at him as she twirled side to side in her chair, hands in her lap. She still didn't know what to make of this strange man, but she welcomed his presence. She stood and opened her mouth to ask if he wanted to nip into the kitchen for some coffee when the lights shut off on the entire floor.

"Oh… okay." She tried not to panic. "I guess they forgot we were here."

The Doctor groaned with aggravation and walked towards the doorway. "They're on an automatic timer. I forgot they shut off earlier on Fridays."

"Can we turn them back on?" Clara asked as she carefully tread the space between them until she was standing by his side. She pulled her mobile from her pocket and turned the LED light towards the control box on the wall. Clara had never thought about what that was before; she'd always assumed it was the thermostat.

"Well… hopefully," he said with a degree of uncertainty that Clara didn't particularly fancy. He turned to look at her but was blinded by the bright light on her phone. "Ahh!" he growled. "Now I can't see anything."

"Why did you look straight into the light then?"

"I was trying to look at you!"

Clara sighed and smiled faintly. "What are you trying to do?"

"Um…" He took a moment to rub his eyes. "I need to see if I can find the manual override code for the lights."

"Do you know it?"

"No."

"So you were just going to try and guess?"

"Yes."

Clara lowered her flashlight and huffed with frustration. "So we're pretty much trapped in the dark, aren't we?"

"Oy, come on! Hold that light up again. Don't lose faith in me yet, Clara."

"Who says I've got any faith in your code-guessing abilities?" she said as she reluctantly raised the light back to the light box.

The Doctor turned and grinned at her in a way that made her forget all about the lights. "Holding the light up, aren't you?"

Seventeen guesses later, they were still in the dark. Clara sighed and shifted her phone into her left hand to give the other a rest.

"We could just do without the lights," she offered dully.

"Really?" the Doctor replied hopefully. "I can figure this out."

"Oh, I'm sure you can," Clara replied, clearly humouring him. "I'd just rather you not spend all night mucking about with the light box when we could just turn that lamp on over by the sofa."

Clara flashed the light at the little love seat by her desk where visitors to the eleventh floor offices usually sat until they were called to their appointments. The Doctor glanced over and said, "Right" before dropping the cover to the light box and adjusting his bow tie.

Clara switched the lamp on and was amazed at how the light from one bulb managed to pierce the darkness with such range. She kind of liked the atmosphere of the office in low light; it made her think of candlelight and how beautiful the world could be when it wasn't drowning in florescent lighting.

"I don't know about you, but I could do with a cup of tea," Clara said. "Kitchen's that way."

The Doctor raised a hand for her to lead the way, even though Clara was fairly certain he knew where everything was in this office. He was often up here working on someone's computer, installing software or fixing problems that the technologically illiterate inflicted upon the poor machines.

They kept the door open in case the deliveryman were to knock on the door. The Doctor commented on how odd it was that an office delivery would take place after working hours.

"You're telling me," Clara replied with mild frustration as she flipped the switch on the electric kettle. The only light in the kitchen came from her phone. Clara watched the Doctor out of the corner of her eye as she pulled two mugs and two tea bags from the cabinets. He stood behind her with his hands on his hips, watching her every move with a sort of curiosity she couldn't describe. She started to feel stage fright.

"Why do you keep looking at me like that?" she finally asked.

The Doctor looked a bit stunned. "Sorry?"

"You keep looking at me like… I don't know, you're waiting for something."

"Sorry. No, I'm just waiting on tea."

Clara was glad it was dark because she started flushing a bright pink. It wasn't necessarily from embarrassment, rather the awkwardness of the whole situation.

She pulled the carton of milk from the refrigerator and the box of sugar from the counter and prepared their tea. The Doctor smiled when she handed him his cup and she found herself smiling back at him.

"You know how I like my tea?"

"Well, yeah," she replied simply. "You're not that much of a mystery, Doctor."

Clara took a sip from her mug and grabbed her phone from the counter. The Doctor followed her back to the sofa by reception and they both had a seat. They looked at the door to the office for the deliveryman but apparently he didn't materialise at their will. Clara sighed and the Doctor turned to her curiously.

"Have you always wanted to be a receptionist, Clara?"

She half-snorted in response. "No. I don't think many little girls dream of answering phones and resisting the urge to play solitaire all day."

"What did you dream of, then?" he asked before taking a sip of tea.

Clara stared up at the darkened ceiling thoughtfully. "I wanted to be a professional horse-rider for a long time. Then I actually rode a horse and discovered it was much less glamorous an undertaking than I'd imagined."

The Doctor laughed a little too long at the image of Clara riding a horse. She glared at him through the semi-darkness.

"What about you, Doctor? Always wanted to work in IT?"

He finished taking another sip of tea and shrugged indecisively. "I always did enjoy computers, even as a kid. Back before the internet was a big thing. I bet you don't remember that, do you?"

Clara narrowed her eyes. "How old do you think I am?"

He chuckled as if he'd just made a hilarious joke. Clara grew concerned.

"I like figuring out how they work. But no, I wanted to be an explorer. Everyone acts like we know where everything is in the world, every island, every civilisation. But I reckon there's plenty out there that's lost or undiscovered, by me, at least."

Throughout his little speech, Clara could only stare at him and smile. "I like yours better than mine," she said. "Did you ever do any exploring?"

"Yeah, but my mum always called it 'getting lost.'"

Clara laughed. "I always wanted to travel. I've been to France a few times, but never anywhere else."

"Ah. _Parlez-vous français?_"

Clara's eyes widened. "Um… _Un petit peu?_" She laughed nervously. "Do you?"

"_Bien sûr_."

"Do you speak any other languages?"

He shrugged again. "The Romance languages are easy. I'm pretty good at German and Russian. My Cantonese is rubbish, but I'm alright with Mandarin. I really want to learn Arabic or Farsi, or… What?"

Clara stared at him. "Is there anything you cannot do?"

An almost sad smile graced his lips. "Oh, Clara. There's plenty I can't do."

She tore her gaze from his and sipped her tea in silence. Her cup was almost empty; she didn't know what she'd do with herself when she didn't have her tea to occupy her.

"You really don't have to stay until the deliveryman comes," she said.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No," she said quickly. "That's not what I meant. I just reckoned you've probably got better things to do with your time."

"What's wrong with spending my time with you?"

Clara didn't know how to respond. The Doctor's gaze lowered to her lips and Clara felt her heart race. She felt herself leaning ever so slightly towards him, the silence between them unbearable and almost frightening.

It was interrupted when the _ding_ of the lifts announced the deliveryman's arrival. Clara suddenly felt like she'd imagined the moment between them and she jumped to her feet. "I think he's here."

Clara buzzed the man in and signed for the package with a nervous haste. Her heart was still pounding in her chest as she took the box over to her desk and set it down. She turned back around to find the Doctor standing in front of the sofa with his shoulders hunched and his hands stuffed in his trouser pockets.

"Guess it's time to go home," he said.

"Right, yeah. Thanks for waiting with me."

"Of course. It was nice of you to do this. For Jenny and Vastra."

Clara smiled. "Yeah, well they earn it by being rather nice themselves."

They stared at each other for a long time. Clara almost laughed to dispel the tension.

"Oh! The mugs." She picked up their empty cups of tea. "Ought to wash these."

The Doctor followed her into the kitchen. He insisted on washing his own mug, and then they both grabbed their coats and headed towards the lifts. Neither of them said a word on the ride down from the eleventh floor. Clara didn't even look at him; she didn't know what she would do or say if he looked back at her. Things had gotten awkward between them very quickly.

"I guess I'll see you Monday, if you're out and about," she said once they were outside the building. It was absolutely freezing and a stiff wind blew her hair into her face.

"Yeah. I guess so."

"'Kay. Good night, then," she said, turning on her heel to walk away.

She'd gone two steps before, "What are you doing this weekend?"

"Sorry?" she said, turning around.

"I was just thinking… Maybe you and I could meet each other for coffee. If you weren't busy, and you know, you wanted to."

Clara chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully and walked up to him without saying a word. She could tell he was hanging on her every breath, so perhaps it was a little cruel for her to hesitate as much as she did. "You'll need my number."

He smiled hesitantly and pulled out his mobile, which had to be at least six years old. It had an antenna. Not exactly what she expected of a computer guy who worked for a major tech company, nor one who lived in such a modern flat.

She gave him her number and watched as he dialled it into his phone. He flipped it shut and smiled like he couldn't help himself. "I'll be in touch. Goodnight, Clara."

"Goodnight, Doctor."

They walked in opposite directions, him towards the busier street to hail a cab and her towards the nearest underground station. She had just turned the corner when her phone rang with an unfamiliar number. Clara stopped walking and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Ah, Clara. I'm glad I caught you."

A grin crept across her face. "You don't waste any time, do you?"

The Doctor chuckled on the other end of the line. "Well, time is a terrible thing to waste."


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

The holiday season arrived earlier and earlier each year, or at least that was how it seemed to Jenny. She didn't mind extending the festivities, although a disenchanted part of her realised that the consumer-driven companies were just drawing in more money by marketing Christmas earlier and earlier each year. It was funny how bitter she could feel towards the marketing departments of consumer-driven companies given her position. Vastra argued that they were more research-driven and marketed their products to private buyers, but they still latched onto the holiday for the expense of marketing. Jenny wondered if anything was sacred anymore.

Right before lunch early in December, Jenny knocked on Vastra's door and poked her head in. "Hey. Wanna grab some lunch?"

Jenny could almost see the gears turning in her head as Vastra gazed at the papers on her desk with a mild sort of panic. "Yes," Vastra said finally. "Let me grab my purse."

The two walked arm in arm across the street to the little café where many TARDIS employees gathered during their lunch breaks. Jenny wasn't much for coffee, but she loved having the rich aroma permeate her very pores as she entered the little shop. After ordering their food, the two found a free table near the door and settled in. Vastra asked if Jenny had heard more from her brother since his birthday and Jenny couldn't help but smile at her wife. Vastra was always juggling at least thirty different things at any given time, but she never forgot about what was going on in Jenny's life.

The sound of a familiar laugh drew Jenny's attention away from their table. With a smile, she tapped Vastra's foot with the toe of her boot to get her attention and nodded to where the Doctor and Clara were sitting on the other side of the shop. For a moment the two women just watched as the Doctor and Clara held their sandwiches in front of them, almost forgotten as they continued to talk animatedly to each other. When Clara laughed again, Vastra turned around with a smile and said, "Well. That's working out better than I'd hoped."

"How do you mean?" Jenny asked, puzzled.

Vastra's eyes lowered to her sandwich as she removed the plastic wrapping. "The Doctor was in my office when I was looking through the applications for the new receptionist. He seemed to know Clara Oswald, at least by her name. He was certainly interested to know if she was the same one he knew."

"Is she?"

"I believe so," Vastra replied, turning to glance back over her shoulder as if the answer were hovering in the air over the Doctor's head. "I asked him shortly after the incident with the construction crew and he told me that he'd met her before, but she didn't remember him."

"That's funny," Jenny said with a bemused laugh. "Who could forget someone like the Doctor?"

Vastra frowned lightly at her sandwich. "I think she may have met him during the period where he didn't want to be noticed."

Jenny couldn't help but frown in remembrance of that time. It was hard to see someone like the Doctor fall into such a dark place. "Seems to be noticing him now, doesn't she?"

Vastra failed to hold back a smile. "Yeah, she does."

The annual Christmas party at TARDIS Industries was in full swing when the Doctor finally left the IT office that evening. The celebration took place on each floor that the TARDIS offices occupied and saw most of its employees going up and down the lifts to visit the different party stations. The IT office that the Doctor and Strax worked in was too small to host a party, and was actually a satellite office located on a floor largely occupied by another company. So, naturally, the Doctor and Strax adopted the eleventh floor marketing offices as their second home.

The lifts were full of giddy employees wearing reindeer antlers and paper crowns when the Doctor stepped on. His car stopped at every floor between seven and eleven before he finally reached his destination. He had this moment of panic when he arrived to the crowded conference room that she wouldn't be there, but it wasn't long before he spotted her talking to the man next to the bowl of eggnog.

"Doctor!" Clara called with a little wave as he approached.

The Doctor clapped hand on Wilfred Mott's shoulder at them both. "Already into the eggnog, Clara? Best not drink too much," he advised with eyebrows raised.

Instead of blushing at the memory of Jenny's party, Clara narrowed her eyes in what was clearly a warning. The Doctor simply chuckled. "I see you've still got plenty left, Wilf."

"Had to bring a double batch, didn't I?" Wilfred replied. He pointed to a huge plastic barrel on a table by the wall and the Doctor's eyes bulged. "Always run out before the end of the night. But not this year." Wilfred cackled victoriously. "Not this year."

The Doctor moved to where he was standing beside Clara and lowered his head. "And what did _you_ bring to the party?"

Clara said 'ah!' in response to his question and grabbed his free hand before leading him through the crowded conference room to her desk at reception. It was customary for each employee to bring a snack of some sort for the celebration. The Doctor always forgot when the party was even with constant reminders, so he never brought anything.

Clara's desk was lined with a strand of garland lit with fairy lights and red velvet bows. The Doctor watched her go behind her desk, a proud smile on her face as she pulled something out of a plastic-covered plate.

"I made little gingerbread people. I drew little suits and briefcases on them all with icing, which was a lot of fun, but this one is for you."

She placed the cookie on a napkin and handed it to him. On it was his signature bowtie, jacket, and even the swoosh of his hairstyle rendered perfectly in icing. The Doctor couldn't help but grin with delight.

"You made me into a cookie. It's cookie me! Will it be considered cannibalism if I eat it?"

Clara snorted. "If you like. Wait, though! I want to take a picture. Hold it up."

The Doctor posed with the little cookie version of himself so that Clara could take a picture on her phone. After she gave him the all clear he bit off the right hand and debated giving Clara his gift now. They were mostly alone, save for the employees filling up the conference room twenty feet away and a few who were milling in and out of the doorway. Not that they needed to be alone.

Throwing caution to the wind, the Doctor pulled a little rectangular box from the inside of his jacket and held it out for Clara. "I got you a little something as well."

She stared at the box in surprise and smiled. "Doctor… You didn't have to get me anything."

"Course I did. It's Christmas!"

Clara glanced back and forth between the box and his eyes before finally lifting the lid and gazing at what was inside. She didn't react at first, which made the Doctor regret every decision he's ever made in his life for about two seconds, and then she started giggling.

"What is this?" she asked in amusement, holding up the thumb-sized trinket for him to view.

"It's Princess Leia!"

"I can see that, but what—Oh! It's a USB drive! Oh my god!" She pulled the cap off, which just happened to be Princess Leia's head, and continued laughing. "This is brilliant! Thank you."

Clara leaned into him for a hug and the Doctor didn't know how to react. This sort of thing should come naturally to a person, but he couldn't decide whether or not he should continue leaning against the taller edge of her desk or if he should stand up straight when he wrapped his arm around her (should he wrap both arms around her?) Since she was about a foot shorter than he was, he stayed put.

The hug didn't last very long, but there was a moment that felt almost infinite. Clara's posture shifted and he could tell that their proximity was affecting her in the same way he always felt it affect him. Her cheeks were lightly flushed when she stepped back. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and breathed a little laugh.

"You do realise that we both gave each other little replicas of ourselves."

The Doctor laughed suddenly. "_Yeah_. You know, I think it's better we not analyse that too closely."

The Doctor laughed suddenly. "_Yeah_. You know, I think it's better we not analyse that too closely."

He liked to make her laugh. She had such an infectious smile, the kind of smile a man would kill to see just once in his lifetime.

"So is there a party going on in the IT office?" Clara asked.

"Oh, no," he laughed in response. "Ha. It's, uh, quite too small for a party. Just me and Strax, anyway. Could you imagine the snacks?"

"Really? It's seriously just you and Strax working IT for the entire company?"

He leaned against the desk again and placed his other hand on his hip. "Impressed?"

"More like doubtful," she replied with narrowed eyes. "Let me see this office of yours. Seventh floor, yeah?"

"What?" He didn't know why, but the idea of Clara walking into his office sent up a red flag. It wasn't an exceptionally personal space, but it wasn't somewhere he received visitors. "Um, yeah. Sure. Okay. Let's go."

The Doctor followed Clara down the corridor to the lifts and watched her press the down button. All he could think of was the half dozen empty cups of tea littering his desk, or the receipts and junk mail that gathered up space in a disorganised manner. The Doctor bit the head off his gingerbread man and tried not to think of it as putting the little guy out of his misery.

Once they stepped onto the seventh floor, however, he started to feel rather excited. The Doctor kept a lot of secrets, mostly to keep people at a distance, and his job in IT was a way for him to hide from his past. And the more he was with Clara, the less he wanted standing in between them. He wanted desperately to be close to someone, to be close to her, but was terrified of what would happen if he let someone in again. It never ended well.

When they reached the door, the Doctor pulled his key card from his pocket and punched the code on the door to unlock it. The big reveal when they stepped inside and he turned on the light was a bit anticlimactic, but Clara stood there and soaked it all up with her eyes like the mundane environment was somehow fascinating.

"I'm guessing this desk is yours?" she said, pointing to the messy one.

"How'd you guess?"

"I dunno. It's got more personality. Also this one has a name plate that says 'Thomas Strax' on it."

She lifted it off of Strax's desk to show the Doctor, then lowered it and gazed at him curiously. "Does yours have one?"

The Doctor shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and shook his head. He could tell she was desperate to know his name, even though she had only ever really asked for it once. She was doing a good job of pretending that her curiosity wasn't killing her, so he tried his best not to enjoy keeping the secret too much. It wasn't a fun secret to keep, but he couldn't help but smile at her feigned disinterest.

Clara walked over to his desk and fiddled around with a few items that weren't just rubbish, like his keyboard, a few pens, the ear pierce he wore whenever he was working. When her fingers grazed the post-it taped to his monitor, however, the Doctor rushed forward and grabbed both of her wrists, startling her.

"Don't do that," he said softly. "Please."

She stared at him with wide eyes. "I'm sorry."

The Doctor sighed and shook his head. "No. No, _I'm_ sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay," she assured him, although she still spoke as if she were trying to appease a wild animal.

The Doctor loosened his grip on her wrists and stroked her skin with the back of his thumbs. He didn't even realise he was doing it; it was like he was trying to smooth away any pain he had inflicted upon her. He hated to think that she was frightened of him, even for a moment. The last thing he wanted Clara to feel is unsafe with him. He wanted quite the opposite.

Her hands curled around his wrists and the Doctor met her gaze. Despite how much time they'd been spending together recently, he didn't know Clara Oswald that well. She charming and beautiful and always kind, especially whenever he needed her to be. He couldn't figure her out, and it was killing him.

"Clara…"

The Doctor didn't know what to say, so he didn't speak. Instead, he closed the space between them and captured her lips with his in a chaste kiss. Clara stiffened with surprise and he panicked, but when she relaxed and wrapped her arms around his neck he closed his eyes and deepened the kiss. Their lips finally separated with a soft smack and the Doctor stared at her, now even more at a loss for words. The overwhelming emotions he felt rendered him speechless and his heart beat wildly in his chest as her eyes met his.

There was a part of him that knew why he kissed and could acknowledge what it was that drew her towards him and kept her interest, but it was buried deep in regret and self-loathing. He should back away now and tell her she was wasting her time with him, that she ought to find someone less damaged, less selfish. Less afraid.

But that other part of him, while difficult to acknowledge, was also difficult to control. The Doctor cradled the side of her face with one hand before dipping forward to kiss her again. Clara's fingers tangled into his hair and she returned the kiss gently. Her lips tasted of nutmeg and cinnamon and hint of bourbon.

He knew he owed her an explanation, but didn't know where to begin. He broke the kiss and placed his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, as he listened to their breaths mingle. He was quite certain he was falling in love with her but was so afraid to admit it to himself that he couldn't even fathom confessing the truth to her.

Luckily, Clara broke the silence first. "I was wondering if you were ever going to do that. I was getting right impatient."

The Doctor couldn't help but laugh. "I'm surprised you didn't take matters into your own hands."

"You know me well."

He smiled broadly at her and smoothed her hair away from her face. "I hope I'm starting to," he replied earnestly.

"The post-it note…"

His smile faded.

"It's something important?"

The Doctor swallowed around a lump that suddenly appeared in his throat. "Yes."

"I understand," she said with a nod.

Clara lifted her right hand, upon which were a number of rings. She fiddled with the one on her middle finger.

"This was my mum's. It was a birthday present from her mum when she was sixteen, and that's… that's how old I was when she died. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to it." Their eyes met once again and Clara smiled; the Doctor could see the gears shifting in her mind. "Merry Christmas, Doctor."

His face broke out with a smile. "Merry Christmas, Clara."

"You think we should go back up to the party?"

"I was thinking about going home, actually." Clara quirked an eyebrow. "No, I didn't mean that _you_…. Shut up!"


	11. Chapter 11

The Doctor battled several different urges at once as he and Clara walked to the underground station after the party. He was so focused on keeping his hands in his pockets and staring at the pavement that he must have seemed too withdrawn, because Clara kept casting nervous glances in his direction.

"You're being very quiet," she finally said.

"Sorry," he apologised abruptly. "I was just thinking."

"Oh, yeah—_thinking_. Thinking's nice."

The Doctor grinned at her attempt to stir up a relaxed conversation when an invisible elephant was trailing behind them. He stopped walking and Clara turned to face him.

"What are you doing for Christmas?" he asked.

Clara shrugged. "Going home, seeing my dad and grandparents—the usual."

"Ah, right. Family. Yeah."

Clara frowned in a way that meant she regretted mentioning her family in front of him. The Doctor hated that he evoked this sort of shame from people. Just because he didn't have any family didn't mean other people had to hide theirs. "What about you?"

"Oh, I've got a few traditions of my own," he assured her. "Sleep in, watch old Christmas movies on the telly, the usual."

Clara's eyes grew three times their normal size. "All alone?"

"Nah," he lied. "There's usually someone around. Strax or Vastra or someone."

Clara nodded but continued to wear a concerned expression. The Doctor fidgeted nervously and wished that they would start walking again or talk about something else. He didn't like pity. He needed it, but he didn't like it. As if reading his mind, Clara looped her arm through his and they continued walking towards the tube stop.

The Doctor didn't usually tiptoe around the subject in hand; in fact, he was usually reprimanded for not exercising enough tact. But when it came to matters of the heart, especially his own heart, he never knew what to say. It was always worse when something actually needed saying. He wished that Clara could just read what was in his heart like an open book, but the only way she could do that would be if the Doctor allowed himself to be vulnerable.

"Well, here we are," she said once they reached the station entrance.

A woman rushing towards the train had to stop and run around them, so the Doctor and Clara moved off to the side to say goodnight. Brixton wasn't that far away, but the distance between his flat and hers felt enormous.

It was almost shameful how attracted he was to this woman, but more than that, the Doctor felt this innocent desire to spend all of his time with her. The world had more colour with her in it.

"I suppose I'll see you after Christmas," she said.

He smiled tightly. "Yeah. Guess so."

He knew what she was waiting for, but the Doctor didn't know what to say. The infinite number of things that came to mind all felt wrong or misleading, and all of the alternatives were pure shite.

"It's too bad you won't be in Blackpool for Christmas. My gran would love you."

He ducked his head and laughed, honestly quite terrified at the idea of meeting hers or anyone else's gran. "I'm sure I'd love to meet her."

Clara continued to watch him patiently as people continued to pass by them on their way to the tube. The Doctor took a deep breath as if to speak but Clara grabbed either side of his face with her gloved hands and kissed him. The Doctor hesitated only briefly before wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close.

He felt his heart swell in his chest as he clung to her with a desperation he tried to conceal from the rest of the world. He was so lonely, and she was so kind. He feared he was taking advantage of her kindness, because he couldn't see what it was she could possibly want from him. It was difficult, however, to dwell on such things when her lips were pressed against his.

Millennia passed before Clara pulled away, and still it felt too soon. "Oh my stars," she said breathlessly, a coquettish grin on her lips.

"Stay," he said.

"What?"

"Don't go. I-I don't mean…" He cleared his throat in an attempt to compose himself. "We could get coffee or just talk, or stare at peeling paint or… something, anything. Just don't go home yet, please."

With one kiss he'd gone from guarded and withdrawn to flat out begging for her company. Luckily Clara found this charming, because her response was a broad smile that the Doctor mirrored with a crooked one of his own.

"Okay!" he said, his confidence renewed. "What do you want to do?"

Clara heard a loud vibration, like the malicious purr of a jungle cat on the prowl. She whipped her head in every direction but saw nothing but shadows all around, and then with a gasp she awoke and realized her phone was ringing on her nightstand. She noted the name on the caller ID through bleary eyelids and groaned before answering.

"It's four in the morning," she grumbled.

"Did I wake you?" the Doctor replied.

"Of course you woke me." Clara's eyes snapped open. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, sorry. I just thought you might be waking up early to go to your dad's."

"No, my train doesn't leave until half past eight." Loud, white noise filled the other end of the call, like a stiff breeze against the phone's mouthpiece. "Where are you?"

"Oh, I'm just outside."

Clara sat up, suddenly alert. "Outside _where?_"

"Your flat. I'm out by the road."

"_What?_"

Clara peeled away the comforter and immediately shivered at the cold. She placed her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she shrugged into the robe she had hanging on the back of her bedroom door before shuffling into the hallway. She stopped at the staircase landing and stared out the foggy window onto the street below. The Doctor waved up at her.

"Doctor," she whispered into the phone, "what are you doing outside my flat at four in the morning?"

"I came to see you off!"

"Why would you see me off _at four in the morning_?"

"I thought you were leaving early."

Clara groaned with frustration. She couldn't tell anymore if she was just tired or if he was being especially ridiculous. "Come inside. It's cold."

She hung up the phone and tiptoed down the stairs to avoid waking Nina. She quickly checked her reflection in the mirror and tightened the belt on her robe before opening the door so that the Doctor could enter. With him came a gust of December wind that sent a chill to her bones.

He greeted her with an apologetic grimace and Clara locked the door behind him with a frown of disapproval. When his grimace morphed into a smile, Clara found herself smiling back begrudgingly.

"You want some tea?" she asked softly.

"Please. Why are we whispering?"

"Nina."

"Who's Nina? Oh!" Clara glared at him in warning and the Doctor winced before continuing in a softer voice, "Oh _right_. Your flatmate. Is she asleep?"

"Of course she's asleep. What exactly is it you think people _do_ at four in the morning?"

"I don't know. I didn't expect her to still be here. Don't her family live in London?"

Clara filled the kettle with water and plugged it into the wall. "Yeah, but Nina avoids spending too much time with them if she can help it. They're a bit… overwhelming."

"Ah."

Clara pulled two tea bags from the box in the cupboard and plopped them into clean mugs from the strainer by the sink. Once everything was set, Clara turned to face him and leaned against the counter, her arms folded across her chest. She couldn't help but grin at him, standing there perfectly dressed like he was going to the bank or something. "You really got up at three in the morning and came all the way down to Brixton just to see me before I left?"

He made a face. "Well, when you put it like that it makes me sound pathetic."

Clara closed the space between them and stretched on her tiptoes to place a tiny kiss on his lips. "You _are_pathetic. And a bit of a stalker."

The Doctor frowned but didn't pull away when she kissed him again. It had only been four days since the TARDIS Christmas party, but Clara still felt nervous every time she initiated a kiss between them. The Doctor had yet to reject her. The other night when he'd asked her to stay in town, they got coffee and ended up talking for hours. Clara felt an inexplicable connection to this man, a man whose name she still didn't know and who had dodged her subtle attempts to bring up relationship history in conversation. She still had him in her phone as 'The Doctor'.

"Can I help you with anything?" he asked when the kettle whistled and Clara continued to prepare their tea. He always wanted to help.

"You can fetch the carton of cream from the fridge if you'd like."

Clara always snacked with her tea, so she grabbed a carton of biscuits as well and led him to the small kitchen table to have a seat. He draped his coat over the back of the chair before sitting and Clara crossed her legs under the table as she nibbled on a biscuit. The sight of the Doctor sitting at her kitchen table drinking tea at four in the morning was so foreign to her that Clara felt she must still be dreaming.

For a while they sat in an awkward but not altogether uncomfortable silence, sipping their tea as the clock ticked loudly on the wall. Clara watched the Doctor nervously as his gleeful demeanour from before transformed into the most haunted expression. He finally turned to her when his cup was almost empty and met her eyes.

"I know you've heard about my wife."

He spoke a simple truth and not an accusation, but Clara still felt a need to apologise. She wanted to respond but was struck dumb by the fact that he was finally talking about his past.

"She died last year," he continued. The Doctor's expression fell vacant, like he was trying to distance himself from the painful memory. "Two of my best friends left London afterwards. Said it was too painful, too different with her gone. There were other reasons too, but they didn't… hurt. It felt like they just gave up on me. I haven't heard anything from them in months, but I last night and I saw that they sent me a Christmas card."

The Doctor pulled the card from his coat pocket and slid it towards her on the table. Clara lifted it up to see a beautiful young couple smiling in front of the enormous Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center in New York. They looked really nice.

"I wanted to call you," the Doctor confessed softly. He sounded ashamed. "After I saw it. I wanted to talk to you, but I was afraid it was too soon to burden you with my…." He shook his head. "But now here I am, waking you at four in the morning because I can't sleep, and I…"

His expression was stoic, but Clara could tell he was on the verge of breaking down. She stared at him helplessly until she finally willed her right hand to reach forward and grasp his.

"It's okay," she said, meaning more than just the fact that he'd woken her. "It's okay."

The Doctor released a shaky breath and smiled lightly before bowing his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I don't mean to scare you."

"Scare me?" Clara replied with a light smile. "I'm not afraid of emotions, you know."

He gave a little laugh and she squeezed his hand. He seemed so ashamed of his pain and loneliness, and yet he clung to it like a security blanket. His secrets that kept everyone at a distance, and Clara could tell he wanted to share them with her, to break down all the barriers he'd built, but it terrified him.

"You can always call me, you know. No matter how late it is, no matter how much I grumble," she added with a light grin. "No matter what's wrong."

He squeezed her hand tightly and Clara smiled reassuringly.

"I suppose I should let you go back to sleep," he said after a brief silence.

"You don't have to go," she said almost sadly.

"But I should," he replied, standing. "You've got a train to catch."

"Mmm. Fair point."

Clara stood and he pulled her into a hug. She laid her head against his chest and closed her eyes, contemplating falling asleep right there. She followed him towards the door as he made to leave and, despite knowing the layout by memory, banged her toe into the coffee table.

The Doctor stopped and turned when she collapsed to the floor with a stifled cry of pain. "Clara?"

"Toe," she gasped.

She manoeuvred to the sofa where she pulled her foot out of her slipper and examined the chipped nail on her big toe. The Doctor sank onto the cushion next to her as she chanted the word 'ow' over and over again.

"You gonna be alright if I leave you?" he asked with a light chuckle.

"No," she replied sulkily.

Clara leaned her head against his shoulder and pouted. The Doctor wrapped his arm around her shoulder and kissed the top of her head, his voice a throaty rumble as he said something the soothe her.

That was the last thing Clara remembered before falling asleep.


	12. Chapter 12

Clara awoke slowly at first, and then her eyes snapped open and a sinking feeling filled her gut.

"Doctor," she said with a gasp of alarm. "I've missed my train."

He stirred and Clara sat up and tried to ignore the spot of drool she'd left on his shirt. She didn't even remember falling asleep.

"What?" he said finally. "What time is it?"

Clara sat forward and covered her face with her hands. "Half past nine. My train left over an hour ago."

"Can you get another?"

"Last minute and at Christmas?" she replied incredulously. Clara turned and looked at him. "Any seats left are going to cost a fortune."

The Doctor sat up straight and rubbed the side of his face as he tried to find a solution to this problem. He asked about coach tickets and Clara made a face, unable to stomach the idea of being trapped on a bus for god knows how many hours. Just the thought of it made her stomach queasy.

"I have to call my dad. Oh, god," she muttered miserably.

Clara could feel tears welling but didn't want to cry, especially not in front of the Doctor. She stood up and walked into the kitchen to find her phone sitting on the counter by the sink. She felt disappointment and anger welling up inside of her to the point where she couldn't think straight. She started searching for her dad's number in her phone when the Doctor appeared in the kitchen doorway.

"I'll take you."

"What?" The number was dialling.

"To Blackpool, to see your family. I can drive you."

She stared at him. "You have a car?"

"Yes," he replied, looking rather self-conscious about the fact.

Clara hit the 'end call' button and continued to stare at the Doctor while she tried to wrap her head around what he was saying. "You want to drive four plus hours just because I missed my train?"

"It's my fault you missed it," he replied shamefully. "And you can't miss Christmas with your family, can you?"

A hesitant smile crept onto her face. "If you're seriously going to drive me all the way to Blackpool, you might as well stay for Christmas."

"Eh?" he replied. Clearly she'd caught him off guard.

"I wouldn't let you take me there and then drive back the entire way all alone."

"No," he insisted modestly. "I don't want to spoil—"

"Doctor," she interrupted. "Please. Come spend Christmas with me."

The Doctor looked at her with a mixture of emotions in his eyes. She thought he was angry at first, but then his expression softened to something so sad that Clara didn't want to put a name to it.

And then he smiled.

It had apparently been a long time since the Doctor had been behind the wheel. Clara hadn't thought twice about it until his foot hit the accelerator.

He didn't slow down for turns, veered too close to the right for comfort, and once they were out of the city, he managed to stray from the motorways onto these tiny little country roads that were barely wider than the car.

"Doctor," Clara said carefully as she braced herself against the passenger door. "Where exactly are we?"

"It's the GPS," he insisted as he made a sharp turn. "It's a more indirect route, but it should avoid most of the traffic and get us there faster."

It didn't. They were in the car for three hours before they were even halfway to Blackpool. Clara wanted to take a nap but didn't feel comfortable enough to do so, plus she felt she ought to keep an extra eye out for the Doctor. She tried making conversation, but he would always turn to look at her when she spoke. They nearly ran off the road twice.

They did manage to have some danger free conversations, like when Doctor asked about her Christmas traditions. "We used to always go to my Gran's—that's my mum's mum—but she's let Aunt Julie take over the hosting duties the past few years. I think she's gotten tired. Generally we all argue about putting up decorations and who's going to help with dinner while the kids fight over what to watch on telly. It's pretty standard. What about you?"

He grew thoughtful for a moment. "I like to go to church. I don't go every year, but I like the music. It reminds me of my parents—_they_ hated church. We never went when I was a kid, even though my mum was from a big Catholic family. She loved Christmas, though. She had a beautiful voice, and she could make even the most obnoxious Christmas songs sound like the sweetest of hymns. I can't think of a Christmas song that doesn't remind me of my mum."

Clara smiled. "That's really nice. _My_ mum," she chuckled, "bless her—couldn't carry a tune. Dogs weren't howling in the street or anything, but she was always a shade off. She always sounded happy though, when she sang. I'd almost forgotten about her singing," Clara added in disbelief.

Their eyes met as the moment sank in, and it was a while before Clara reminded the Doctor to keep his eyes on the road.

Night fell shortly before they arrived in Blackpool. Clara directed the Doctor to her father's address and they found a parking spot a few houses down the street. She had never been more relieved to place her feet on the pavement, even though the world still felt like it was moving.

"Are you sure your dad doesn't mind me staying?" the Doctor asked for what had to be the sixth time.

"Yes, he said it was fine. Guest room's all made up and everything."

Clara led the Doctor inside and announced their arrival loudly. Her dad didn't immediately come running, but their old fluffy grey cat hurried to greet them.

"Aw, hello, Sal," Clara said warmly as she placed her bag on the ground and knelt down to scratch under the cat's chin.

"Your dad has a cat?"

"Obviously," she replied with a chuckle.

He'd gotten Sally shortly after Clara's mum died. Sally had just been a kitten then.

Footfalls on the staircase alerted them to her father's arrival downstairs. "You made it!" he said happily before engulfing Clara in a warm hug.

He pulled back and regarded the Doctor curiously. "You must be Clara's doctor friend."

"Yeah, that's me," the Doctor replied with a laugh as he shook her dad's hand. "You can just call me the Doctor."

Mr Oswald chuckle but nodded. "Alright. So, are you two hungry?"

The Doctor could sense Mrs Oswald's absence in the house despite having never known her. As they sat around the dinner table, it was clear that the empty seat next to him had been the one she'd sat in for all of their family meals. There were knickknacks and other things about the house that screamed of a woman's touch, and yet it had been nearly a decade since she had passed.

"So, Doctor," Mr Oswald began. "Do you not usually spend Christmas with your parents?"

"They died when I was still a kid, actually."

"Oh," Mr Oswald replied soberly. "I'm sorry to hear that. No other family?"

"No, it was just us."

"How did they die?"

"_Dad_," Clara chided.

"It's alright," the Doctor assured them both. "It was a car accident. Really dark, rainy night."

He stabbed a potato with his fork and shoved it in his mouth.

"That's a right shame," Mr Oswald replied.

The Doctor could feel Clara's eyes on him. They had yet to talk about how his parents died on their own, or about the nature of her mother's death. It was something they'd both actively avoided in conversation, without avoiding their parents' memories altogether.

Hours later, Mr Oswald announced that the guest room mattress had developed some sort of mould and had to be thrown out. Clara was very upset by this news because he'd told her the guest room was ready over the phone. Apparently he'd discovered the mould while he was redressing the bed, but something suspicious in Clara's tone suggested that this may have been his underhanded suggestion that her gentleman friend sleep on the sofa downstairs instead of in the bedroom next to hers.

"Honestly," she said in a huff when she returned to the lounge with a folded duvet and two pillows.

The Doctor turned from his position by the mantle to look at her, and Clara smiled at him curiously.

"Snooping around?" she accused, crossing her arms over her chest as she approached.

"Just looking at pictures. Your mum looks nice."

She looked at the photo he was referencing and she smiled almost as if the photo of her mother could smile back. "Yeah. She was."

"How did she die?"

Clara didn't tear her eyes from the photo. "Um, she got sick. Really, really sick. And then she died."

The Doctor brushed his fingers against hers and Clara grasped his hand tightly. For a moment neither said a word, and the Doctor could feel her grief as if it were a palpable thing. He knew what it was like to miss your mother at Christmas, but he didn't have a father or an extended family to comfort him. He wondered which was worse—to have no family or for your family to be broken and incomplete. He didn't need to know the answer.

Clara squeezed his hand and took a deep breath. "We should get you sorted for the night."

They unfolded the sheets and tucked them around the sofa cushions, all the while chatting about the big plans for the next day. They were going to decorate the Christmas tree, visit some of her neighbours, and then pop over to her aunt's for the annual family Christmas party. Clara once again mentioned how her Gran would be delighted to meet him and the Doctor had to interrupt her.

"This is the third time you've mentioned your Gran liking me. Should I be worried?"

Clara shrugged but wore a wicked grin. The Doctor breathed out a little laugh and for a moment neither of them said a word.

"Thanks for making sure I was home for Christmas," she said earnestly.

"Of course," he replied, his voice lowering to match hers. "Thank you for inviting me to stay."

"Of course," she echoed with a smile.

They both stepped forward until they were wrapped in each other's arms, their lips firmly pressed together as if they'd been holding their breaths until this moment. The Doctor tightened his arms around her as Clara broke away. He didn't want her to go. As pathetic as it felt to admit, any moment away from her was agony. Luckily she didn't need any persuading, because in the next moment she pulled his head down for a deeper kiss, one that made it difficult to breathe or focus on anything other than the places their bodies touched.

The Doctor wasn't sure if she pulled him towards the sofa or if he lowered her onto it. All he knew was that Clara's hair spilled onto his pillow like a halo and she moaned softly when his body sank heavily onto hers. Her fingertips dug into the back of his neck and between his shoulder blades while his hands remained snaked around her torso, pulling her as tightly against him as possible.

They were reminded of where they were as quickly as they'd forgotten. Clara shoved him off her the second she heard her father's footsteps on the staircase and the Doctor practically jumped to the opposite side of the couch. Clara stood and straightened her dress and smiled brightly at her father when he appeared in the lounge.

"Goodnight, Dad!" she said a little too cheerily before walking past him towards the hallway. Before she disappeared around the corner, Clara shot the Doctor an apologetic grimace that morphed into a satisfied grin before she ran up the stairs.

The Doctor hugged his pillow to his chest and tried not to look at Clara's father. He could feel that he was staring at him expectantly, so the Doctor finally met Mr Oswald's eyes and tried not to look too guilty.

"You know that mattress wasn't really mouldy, don't you?" he said simply.

The Doctor bowed his head and nodded. "Yeah."

It could have been a trick of the light, but the Doctor could have sworn Mr Oswald smiled just a little bit before wishing him a good night and walking upstairs.


	13. Chapter 13

Vastra didn't usually drink coffee in the morning, but she'd barely slept the night before and felt like she deserved a treat if not a healthy dose of a caffeine. She entered the crowded café across the street from the offices and stood at the back of the queue. Within five seconds of entering the shop, she immediately grew uncomfortable hot, and with a sigh of frustration, she removed her hat, scarf, and her thick coat and draped them over her arm as she waited to place her order.

"Vastra!"

She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of her name and wondered if it was the unexpected suddenness of his approach or his overwhelmingly cheery demeanour that had startled her more. "Doctor," she greeted calmly with a smile. "I see you're up early this morning."

"Oh, you know what they say. Early bird catches the worm and all that."

"Yes, well let's hope we don't have any worms waiting for you in the system."

It wasn't the cleverest pun, but the Doctor pointed at her and laughed as if she'd just told the cleverest joke. Vastra couldn't help but smile at the familiar site of her friend laughing and looking more like himself. She felt like she had just run into a friend she hadn't seen in years.

"Did you enjoy your holidays?"

"I did," he replied, and something in his tone gave away that he'd done more than sit at home watching Christmas movies on the telly as he had done the year before.

"Oh? Do anything interesting?"

The Doctor grinned and explained how he had wound up visiting Clara's family in Blackpool. Vastra's eyebrows shot up in surprise, but she listened attentively as he finished telling all about her aunt's Christmas party and the little cheese tarts she made. He was going on about what he imagined was in the recipe for them when it came time for Vastra to place her order.

The Doctor remained by her side after she paid. He punctuated his sentences with sips of coffee and Vastra wondered how much of his manic energy came naturally and how much was supplied by the cup in his hand.

"So I take it you two are together now?" she said when he took a particularly long sip.

His inability to suppress his grin was answer enough. "Yes, I suppose we are."

"Good," Vastra replied as her drink was placed on the counter in front of her. She placed it in a sleeve and turned to face the Doctor. "I like Clara. And you have been much happier since she joined the company. Did she ever remember when you two first met?"

A shadow fell over the Doctor's face, his good mood deflating as if she'd just taken a needle to a balloon. "No. Not yet."

"I find that incredibly odd," Vastra replied, handing the Doctor her cup so that she could shrug back into her outer layers. "You always leave a distinct impression."

He smiled. "Left a pretty good one on you, didn't I?"

"Don't remind me," she teased. "Are you going to attend the meeting this afternoon?"

"You know I don't come to those anymore."

"But Doctor, all the major shareholders will be there."

"Even better reason for me not to come," he replied simply as he held the door open for her.

A cold wind slapped her in the face and she took a deep breath. Some things may have changed for the better, but Vastra reckoned she ought to give up hope that the Doctor would ever return to the man he was before. Perhaps, in the end, that would be best for everyone.

Clara couldn't stop humming Christmas carols even though they were already two days into the new year. She also had to keep rewriting or retyping the date whenever she put the wrong year down, which happened a lot. She had always been slow to adapt to change, even if the changes were ones she made on a yearly basis. She didn't like to rush things.

"Hey, Clara."

Donna Noble leaned against the edge of Clara's desk, looking frazzled. Donna was a temp who had been working for the marketing department longer than Clara.

"Hey, Donna. What can I help you with?"

Donna sighed irritably and then half-whispered so no one would overhear, "I was asked to send this fax an hour ago but I can't figure out the bloody fax machine. Would you mind helping me out?"

Clara held out her hand. "Hand it over."

Donna visibly relaxed as Clara took the papers from her hand. The two didn't know each other very well, but Donna could hold a conversation with a rubber plant and Clara appreciated her sense of humour.

"So how were your holidays?" Donna asked as Clara readied the pages on the fax machine's tray.

Clara didn't realise she was grinning until she started speaking. "_Unusual_. I missed my train home, so my boyfriend had to drive me all the way up to Blackpool for Christmas. It was a bit surreal having him there, to be honest. But nice."

"Oh!" Donna replied with a delighted grin. "I didn't know you had a boyfriend!"

Clara's cheeks flushed. "Well, it's sort of a recent development. Still feels weird calling him that."

"Anyone I know? You know you've got to fill out a form if it's an office romance, or they'll sack you."

Clara's face turned white. "Really?"

Donna snorted. "Pfft, I dunno. I'd check with HR just in case. Never dated a co-worker myself, although I'm still mad in love with this bloke from accounting. Don't tell anyone."

Clara mimed zipping her lips and throwing away the key. Donna's fax was almost finished scanning.

"So, what's his name?" Donna prodded curiously.

Clara's smile faded. "He likes to go by 'The Doctor.'"

Donna sucked in a gasp and her eyes went round. "_The IT Guy?"_

"Yeah, that one," Clara replied, her grin broadening.

Donna leaned forward and lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Oh my god, I can't believe it! Are you serious?"

"I hope so."

"Wow. You know, I don't really know much about him. He's a bit odd, inn'e? Nice hair, though." Donna's gaze grew thoughtful. "Really great bum…"

Clara could only nod in agreement as she fought back a chuckle. She wasn't used to hearing other people talk about the Doctor, at least not like this.

"Shame about his wife, though." Donna shook her head as if she'd suffered a sudden shock. "Sorry! I shouldn't mention it."

"No, it's okay," Clara said carefully, her interest piqued. "Did you ever meet her?"

"Professor Song? Yeah, met her before they were married. _Massive_ hair. Bit of an age gap between them, but I don't think anyone thought she was his mother. I'm sure he's told you all about her, though."

Clara smiled tightly. "Ah. I think your fax sent."

"Oh my god, thank you!" Donna muttered appreciatively. "You have no idea how much trouble you just saved me."

A thousand thoughts flooded Clara's head as Donna walked away. She frowned at her computer for the next few hours, because Donna, someone who didn't even know the Doctor, knew more about the Doctor's past than she did, at least where it concerned his wife.

"It'll stick that way, you know."

Clara blinked out of her reverie and looked over at Vastra, who was passing by reception. "Sorry?"

"Your face. Something on your mind?"

Clara touched the side of her face and realised that she'd been frowning. "Sort of."

Her phone rang the second the clock struck five, signalling the end of her work day. Clara stared at the name on her caller ID for a long time before answering.

"Hey."

"Hey," the Doctor replied cheerfully. "Fancy coming 'round for dinner?"

"To your place?"

"Yeah. Or we can go out. I'm not… I-I didn't mean to imply anything, um…"

A smile slowly crept onto her face as he tried to recover. "I don't mind coming by yours. What have you got in mind for dinner?"

She met him downstairs in the lobby. The Doctor felt every muscle in his body relax as she stepped off the lift, and when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, he heaved a sigh of contentment. They chatted idly on the way to the underground station, which was packed with people leaving work. The Doctor offered to pay for a cab ride to his flat but Clara insisted that the tube would be faster.

For the first time since he began taking public transportation, the Doctor didn't mind that the tube was stuffed with bodies. He and Clara squeezed into a small spot in the corner, their bodies pressed tightly together as the train jerked through the underground tunnels of London. He gripped tightly to the rail above his head with one hand and wrapped his other arm tightly about Clara's waist. She smiled up at him.

"Hello."

"Hello," he replied with a grin.

Clara closed her eyes and leaned against his chest with a whimper. He stroked her hair and pressed his lips against the top of her head.

"Are you ready for bed already?"

Clara's response was a throaty chuckle of amusement and the Doctor felt his cheeks flush.

"_Clara_!"

They followed the herd from the station and remained huddled together as they walked against the wintry breeze towards his flat. Clara expressed her regret for turning down his offer of taking a cab as she shivered against him. Their faces were bright pink once they made it to his flat. The Doctor resisted the urge to warm her face with his.

They ordered Indian food and curled up on the sofa while they waited for the delivery. Clara leaned her head against his chest and the Doctor idly played with the ends of her hair, neither of them saying a word as they allowed their minds to decompress after a long day at work.

"Doctor?"

"Hmm?"

"Your wife… How did she die?"

A strand of her hair slipped through his fingers. The Doctor realised after a moment that he'd stopped breathing and he took a slow, deep breath as he tried to think of how to respond.

"I don't like to talk about it."

"I know," Clara replied softly as she sat up to face him.

He stared at her thoughtfully for a moment before heaving a sigh. "I can't remember what I've already told you about her."

"Nothing."

The Doctor stared at her in surprise. "Nothing?"

Clara nodded. "Nothing."

"That… can't be right."

He searched every memory he had with Clara for any mention of River, and he couldn't find her. Not explicitly.

"Her name was River Song," he said, feeling his chest tighten just at the mention of her name. "She was a university professor of technological research. TARDIS Industries tried to hire her for years, but she only agreed to work as a consultant. She was brilliant."

The Doctor couldn't help but smile. River… his River. The more he spoke of her, the less it felt like she was gone.

His smile faded when he remembered Clara's question.

River had come by the office late one night when he was away from his desk. When he returned, he knew she'd been there because she'd written 'Hello, Sweetie x' on a post-it note and stuck it to his monitor. He could still remember how he felt when he peeled it from the screen and held it in his hands, flicking the edge with his fingers before he went up to the research labs where he always found her. There must have been a problem with the mainframe computer—she knew better than to mess with that, but something had been wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong. He'd only managed to call out her name before it happened. He could still smell the burnt flesh.

"She was electrocuted."

Clara didn't say anything for a long time. The Doctor finally looked at her and saw her watching him sadly. She reached up to touch his face and pulled her hand away, as if she was unsure whether or not he wanted her to touch him.

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," he replied softly, taking her hand between both of his.

The Doctor stared at her small fingers, marvelling at how strange his hands looked compared to hers.

"I don't want to upset you," she said.

"You don't upset me," he replied as he laced his fingers through hers. He met her eyes. "You are wonderful, Clara."

She stared at him with a faint smile on her lips and the Doctor thought about kissing her. It seemed like an odd thing to do after talking about his wife, but he frequently found himself in this predicament whenever he was with Clara. Sometimes even when they were apart he would find himself touching his lips and remembering how it felt to kiss her. He wondered if she thought about him like that throughout the day. Something in her eyes told him that she probably did.

The doorbell rang just as his heart started beating rapidly. Reluctantly, the Doctor rose from the sofa and answered the door. His flat was immediately filled with the scent of curry and garlic naan, and it was with a smile that he signed the receipt and handed it over to Raj, the boy who did the deliveries for his family's restaurant.

"Thanks."

"Thanks, Mr Smith. Have a good night!"

The Doctor closed the door behind him and then turned around to find Clara staring at him from where she stood in the kitchen. He had a grin on his face and was about to say something about the food when he realized why she looked like she'd just seen a ghost.

"Mr Smith?"

He pressed his lips together and stared back at her, but couldn't find a reply.

"_John_ Smith?" she added, sounding almost angry.

The Doctor stepped forward into the kitchen and placed the delivery bag on the table.

"You remember."

Clara's eyes grew round and she placed her hand over her lips. "Oh my god."


	14. Chapter 14

This wasn't going to help.

The Doctor looked around at the sad group of people congregated in the church basement and felt nothing but bitterness towards them. He didn't want to tell his story; he didn't want to share in their pain. He wanted to be left alone… and he'd gotten his wish. Amy had taken the job offer in New York, and she and Rory left him the month before with promises to write and call. Amy had asked him to see someone before she left. She knew him better than anyone, and she knew that if he grieved alone, his grief would consume him. He needed help. The Doctor just didn't understand why she couldn't have stayed and been the one to help him.

His life wasn't recognisable with her and Rory gone. He wondered if he was doomed to lose everyone he ever loved.

The tea was abysmal, just lukewarm water and off-brand tea bags, but he drank two cups as he stood in the corner and watched everyone talk nervously to each other. His eyes locked on the face of a young woman who walked in with two even younger children, both pre-teens by the look of them. He couldn't help but stare at her; she had one of those faces that stood out in a crowd. It was a pretty face. Right away he decided he didn't like her.

Their grief counsellor called for them to gather 'round and sit in the circle of chairs. The Doctor considered running upstairs and leaving, but he knew that Amy would find out somehow. He wondered why he still cared.

The girl with the pretty face sat three chairs away, the two kids she came with on either side of her. Dr Simeon, the group leader, introduced himself and explained what they were going to be doing over the next eight weeks. This was all about healing, he said, about understanding one's grief and about making the transition into the next stage of their lives. The Doctor stared at the floor as the man spoke, unable to tune him out even though he had very little faith that this session would mend his broken heart. Every now and then, the Doctor would look over at the woman with the two kids, and each time she was either watching Dr Simeon or the girl and boy next to her. It was clear that she was there for them. They looked about as happy to be there as the Doctor was.

They went around the circle and introduced themselves. There was no mention of loss yet, and the Doctor wondered if this first meeting was an exercise in denial. He was a master at that.

When it came time for him to say his name, the Doctor remained slumped in his chair with his arms crossed and tried not to look at anyone in particular. "John Smith," he said simply. "Twenty-nine years old. I live in Belgravia. I work for a tech company."

"Nice to meet you, John," Dr Simeon replied with what he supposed was a kind smile. The man had a very severe face.

The Doctor glanced over at the woman when it was her turn to introduce herself. Her name was Clara Oswald, twenty-six years old, and she worked as a nanny for the Maitland family. That explained the two kids who were with her, Angie and Artie, both of whom looked sullen and resentful. They were too young for this.

The introductions were torturous enough, but now came the time where they all had to share what brought them here. It was too much death; how was this supposed to help? One woman broke down when she announced that her three year old son had drowned two months ago. The Doctor watched her shoulders shake and wondered how her life could possibly turn around.

"John. Tell us what brought you here," Dr Simeon said kindly.

The Doctor sat up and stared at the floor. "I've lost someone."

"Who?" Dr Simeon prompted kindly.

The Doctor met his eyes. "My wife."

"How long ago was this?"

"Four months."

"I'm so sorry," Dr Simeon said kindly. "Would you like to tell us about her?"

"No. I really wouldn't."

Dr Simeon nodded, said something about time and patience, and then turned to the man sitting next to the Doctor. That was it. That was all he had to say, and it had been painful enough. The young girl next to Clara, Angie, didn't want to speak when it came her turn. Clara offered to speak for her but Angie sat up and summoned her strength.

"Our mum died, Artie's and mine." The young boy shrank into his chair, avoiding eye contact. "It's been six months."

Artie reached for Clara's hand and she grasped it tightly. Angie remained closed off, her arms crossed over her chest as she stared insolently at one of the legs of Dr Simeon's chair.

They took a break. Several people fled to the bathroom or outside for a cigarette, but the Doctor found himself at the refreshments table again. He didn't think he could gulp down another cup of cold, anaemic tea, but he needed something to distract him.

"It's usually safer to bring your own snacks."

The Doctor flinched internally, but managed to turn and look at her with a cool gaze. Clara smiled politely at him. "John, right?"

He nodded. He wanted her to go away, but there was something about her that captured his fascination.

"It must be hard, listening to all of these people talk about loss," he said almost harshly.

Clara's friendly smile faded slightly. "I'm here for them," she insisted kindly. Clara glanced over her shoulder to where the two remained seated in their chairs. Artie was playing on one of those mobile gaming devices. Angie was texting on her phone. "They've just lost their mum and they don't know what to make of it. I know what that's like."

"Do you?"

He didn't know why he was being so rude. She seemed like a nice person, but something about her made him angry. And it wasn't because she wasn't suffering like the rest of the poor sods forced to congregate here to discuss their misery. It was more than that.

It was the curve of her lips, the sharpness of her eyes, the slight curl at the ends of her hair. The Doctor resented her beauty, or rather how he couldn't help but notice it. He shouldn't feel so drawn to another woman so soon after his wife's death. It felt wrong, but rather than try to understand what he was feeling, he decided to be angry.

Clara smiled tightly. "Yeah. I do. I was just a bit older than they were when my mum died."

"I'm sorry," he replied as he fiddled with the packets of sugar on the table.

"Do you watch football?"

The Doctor looked at her for the first time since she'd approached him. "Sorry?"

"Football. You a fan?"

He didn't understand. "Yeah."

Clara met his eyes and heaved a sigh. "I really don't know how to follow that. I was just trying to change the subject."

The Doctor tried not to smile. He watched her finish stirring the creamer into her cup of tea out of the corner of his eye. "Shouldn't you be watching them? The kids, Angie and Artie. That's why you're here, isn't it."

He was trying her patience, he could tell, but for some reason Clara refused to snap at him. He didn't know why he wanted her to.

She turned and leaned against the table with a sigh. "I think they could do with some space, to be honest. They need to feel like they can be unhappy without worrying about what anyone else thinks. We want them to be OK, but they're not. I was sort of hoping that they didn't have to be OK here." She glanced at him and then stood up straight. "I still think they're trying too hard."

He watched her walk back over to her seat, unsure of what to think of her. He didn't know why he bothered thinking of her, why he cared what she said or what it meant or how it related to him or anyone.

He didn't sit back down when the break was over. Instead, the Doctor through his fourth half-drunk cup of tea in the bin and left. He ran upstairs to the sanctuary where he thought about stopping to pray, but the idea didn't sit right within him. He walked outside to the street where he leaned against the hard stone of the church and wished he smoked so he could do something with his hands.

In that moment, he felt lonelier than he ever had in his life. He stared up at the sky and wished he could see the stars through the bright lights and the dark clouds that constantly hung over the city. He wondered if he should pack up and move like Amy and Rory, but he had TARDIS Industries. That was the only thing keeping him in London.

His eyes were closed and his head tilted back against the outer wall of the church when the sanctuary door opened. One by one, the other members of the support group filed out in subdued silence. The Doctor hid in the shadows so they wouldn't see him, feeling ashamed of himself for leaving so early. He peered around the edge of the pillar he was hiding behind until he spotted Clara and the two kids. Unlike the others, they turned in his direction and were talking at a normal level.

"It wasn't so bad," he heard Clara say as Angie crossed her arms even tighter over her chest.

"It was awful. That Dr Simeon looked almost happy that we were all there. Like he takes pleasure in other people's pain."

Clara froze. "Nina! Why would you even say that?"

"Because it's true! _You_ saw his face, Artie!"

Artie shrugged uncomfortable and focused on his DS. Clara sighed and the trio continued walking until they'd passed where the Doctor was standing.

The Doctor watched them disappear around the corner and wondered if he would ever be able to talk to people like he used to. It used to be easy, before his heart broke.

"Are you angry?"

"No," Clara snapped. "I mean, _no_," she added more delicately, "I'm not angry, I just—Why didn't you say anything?"

The Doctor gave an enormous shrug as she stepped towards him. "I thought you'd remember."

Clara stared at him like she was seeing him for the first time. "I can't believe that was you." She laughed softly. "John Smith."

"Yeah… That's not my real name."

Clara scoffed. "I know it isn't. You wouldn't work so hard to keep a name like that to yourself only to share it with the Indian Restaurant. I'm guessing the credit card company doesn't accept 'The Doctor' as the name on your application?" she teased. Her smile faded. "Oh my god, did you lie on your credit card application?"

The Doctor smiled and shook his head. "I don't have a credit card. Not one with my name on it, at least."

"Was it your wife's?" Clara felt like her mouth was running faster than her mind and she immediately pressed her lips together. "Sorry."

"No," the Doctor said patiently as he started pulling containers of food from the large paper bag on the counter. "Company card."

Clara shifted to her other foot and furrowed her brow curiously. "Why would an IT guy have a company card?"

Once again, the Doctor turned to her slowly with a heavy sigh and Clara felt like another one of his secrets was about to hop out of the bag and onto the table.

"Clara, can we not talk about this?"

"Why not?" she asked almost defiantly. "You're starting to scare me."

"Scare you?" he replied with concern. "What have I done?"

"I dunno! You're keeping all these secrets, not telling me everything you know about me."

"You've known that about me since the beginning."

"Have I?"

The Doctor dragged his palms across his face and groaned with frustration. "Please, please don't be afraid of me."

"Why shouldn't I be?" she challenged, desperate for an answer.

"Because that's the last thing I want," he said fervently.

The Doctor stepped closer and reached for her face, but the movement startled her so she stepped away. She could tell she was breaking his heart and she wanted to stop; she wanted everything to be alright. But with the realisation that he was someone from her past along with the revelation about his wife, Clara didn't know how much she trusted him anymore. She didn't feel like he was going to hurt her, she just felt betrayed by how little she really knew him.

Clara didn't flinch away when his hands came to rest on either side of her face, nor did she look away when his eyes met hers. She could feel his emotions radiating from his skin like the pungent smell of stale perfume, but his composure remained intact. His eyes, however, were desperate and pleading.

"I'm sorry that I keep secrets. They're not just from you; they're from everyone. And they're not there to harm anyone, they just…" He removed his hands from her face and wrung them together, suddenly aging back fifteen years. "They keep me safe."

"I understand," she replied softly. "I do. But these secrets don't make me feel safe. They make me feel like I've got buckets of industrial paste hovering over my head and I never know when one's going to drop."

He grinned momentarily at the allusion to the incident with the construction crew, the one where she'd saved his life and had incidentally led to their first date.

"You're pretty fast on your feet, if I remember."

"Doctor…" she chided tiredly.

His gaze remained locked with hers as he heaved a sigh. "I'm trying."

Clara heaved a sigh of her own. "So am I."

She took his hand and squeezed it before pulling his face towards hers for a soft kiss. The tension between them ebbed and Clara smiled against his lips.

"What?" the Doctor asked curiously.

"I can't believe that was you. John Smith," she said with a grin.

"In all fairness, I hadn't shaved in months, so I was a bit hairier."

Clara chuckled. "I remember."

She touched his face, wishing she could memorise every angle. There had once been a time when he was just another face in a crowd, a time when he'd just been a guy from work with a funny name and odd manners. Without realising when, Clara realised he'd become the most important person in her life.

Her heart swelled with emotion and she kissed him again, catching him by surprise. When they broke apart, the Doctor was still searching her eyes for an answer to a question that he finally voiced.

"Are we OK then? You and me?"

Clara nodded. "Yeah. We're OK. But I think our food is getting cold."

The Doctor laughed and started to unwrap their food. They sat in front of the TV and talked between mouthfuls of curry and naan until Clara fell asleep against the armrest of the sofa.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: **It's been over TWO MONTH'S since I last updated this story and all I can ask is for your forgiveness and _**thank you**_ for your patience, kindness, understanding, and support. I love Whouffle, don't get me wrong, but what really sticks with me is how lovely my fellow whoufflepuffs are. I have never been apart of such a wonderful group of shippers and I just want to transform you into those little plastic balls, throw you in the ball pit, and roll around on you. Go to sleep tonight (or be greeted in the morning) with that image in your head.

**Chapter Fifteen**

Clara wasn't sure how long she'd been staring blankly at her computer screen before he showed up at her desk.

"Hey," the Doctor greeted cheerily, startling her.

"Oh!" She laughed, recovering from her fright. "Sorry."

"Hard at work?" he asked with some amusement.

"Oh, you know," she replied in a haughty tone with a dismissive wave of her hand.

The Doctor pulled a postcard invitation, like a magician pulling an ace from his sleeve, and handed it to Clara. "You get one of these in your inbox?"

She examined the red card stock with a mild degree of feigned interest, but Clara felt a surge of excitement in her veins. "Yeah. It's for that charity gala thing. Supposed to be really fancy."

"Yeah," he said with a boyish smile. "You wanna go?"

Clara pretended to be surprised at the very thought, although her response wasn't completely false. She'd never thought she'd go to such a pricy event. "Don't you have to dress up and pay a hundred pounds for your seat or something?"

"Well, yeah. That's how these charity things usually work. Vastra and I pitched in and got a table for the lot of us."

"The lot of us?"

"Yeah – you, me, her and Jenny, and Jack's coming into town with his new partner."

"Oh, wow. The gang's all here."

"So… you wanna go?"

Clara's lips twisted into a grin. "How many times have I made you ask that question?"

"Three."

"Of course I want to go," she answered finally.

The Doctor visibly relaxed, but tried to play it cool. "Excellent. Yeah, yeah. Well, okay!" He did a little drum roll on top of her desk and then took a step back. "I'll let you get back to staring blankly into space."

"Shut up," Clara replied with a laugh as she returned her eyes to her computer. She glanced over at the door a moment later to see the Doctor standing in the doorway, his eyes lingering on her. He smiled when she met his eyes and Clara shooed him away with a wave of her hand. He made a guilty little leap out the door and grimaced playfully before disappearing from view.

"How do I get it to switch to the DVD player?" Nina shouted from the lounge.

Clara pulled the second bag of popcorn from the microwave and smiled wryly, shaking her head. "Hold on, I'll show you!" She leaned away from the bag as hot steam billowed through the paper seams, and after a moment's pause, she poured the buttery contents into the bowl along with those of the first bag.

Clara and Nina hadn't had a night in together in months. They would order take away every now and again, but they rarely spent time together like they had when they were kids. Half of Clara's childhood memories were composed of school and spending time with her family, the rest were all Nina's sarcastic laughter, torn ticket stubs, crying into each other's sleeves, and that phase where they said "that would never really happen" about ever movie they watched.

Earlier that day, she and Clara had gone dress shopping for the big charity gala. Nina, true to form, came out with three times the number of shopping bags than Clara did, but Clara was satisfied with their shopping venture. She found a dress that looked a lot more expensive than it was, and it had been on sale.

Once they put the TV on the right input and slipped the disc into the DVD player, the girls curled up on the sofa with warm blankets and a large bowl of popcorn between them. Neither said a word during the opening sequence of _Beauty and the Beast_, even though this was somewhere around the millionth time they'd watched it together. This was actually the first movie they'd seen together in theatres as kids, and ever since then, Clara and Nina had talked about living in a castle with their own cathedral-sized library. Their tiny two-bedroom in Brixton was way off the mark.

They sang along to every song and groaned whenever Gaston came on screen. This character was made even more unbearable since Nina's ex-boyfriend not only resembled the animated villain, but behaved like him too. They talked about Edwin (that was his name) for a few minutes before the sound of crunching popcorn and Belle's voice filled the silence that fell between them.

"What about you and your guy?" Nina asked.

"Pardon?"

"How are things with you two?"

Clara smiled almost bashfully, but the response was countered with an almost sly grin. "We're good. Really good."

Nina chuckled darkly. "_Really_ good, eh?"

"Shut up," Clara replied, tossing a kernel at Nina. For the next several minutes, Nina struggled to disentangle it from her hair.

"Does he still make you call him the Doctor?"

Clara shrugged, her eyes back on the TV screen. "That's what everyone calls him."

"Even his mum?" Nina replied dubiously.

"I dunno. His mum's dead."

"Oh, right. Blimey."

Nina released an 'a-ha!' of victory when she finally extracted the popcorn kernel from her hair. She tossed it into the kitchen, earning a comment from Clara about sweeping the floor.

"But really, what do you call him when you two are… You know?"

Clara glanced at Nina with a raised eyebrow, fearful of her meaning.

Nina grinned and started breathing heavily. "Oh _Doctor, _that's it! Right there, Doctor!"

"Nina!" Clara replied, somewhat scandalized.

Nina cackled. "Gives a whole new meaning to playing Doctor."

Clara rolled her eyes with a degree of fondness, a light blush creeping to her cheeks. "We haven't… I mean…"

She released a sigh and stared at the TV, which paused on a shot of the beast's fearsome gaze. Confused, Clara turned to find Nina staring at her in surprise with the remote in her hand.

"Are you saying you've been dating this guy for months and you two haven't even…?" Nina nodded her head suggestively. Clara wondered if Nina was even capable of uttering the words "had sex" without the fear of her father hearing her from miles away. He did have remarkably good hearing.

"Not that it's any of your business, but no," Clara replied haughtily.

"… Doctor isn't the new word for monk, is it?"

"Not everyone jumps into bed at the first opportunity, Nina."

Nina scoffed. "They do when they're _that_ good-looking."

"Oh, you think he's good-looking?" Clara replied with some amusement.

Nina stared at her, silence between them. "It's driving you mad, isn't it?"

"Absolutely bonkers."

Nina laughed in victory and Clara groaned. This was one of those things she didn't like to talk about with other people, but Nina wasn't other people. The truth was that Clara was getting very, very impatient with the Doctor when it came to their sex life, seeing as they hadn't actually had sex yet. Nina knew that the Doctor had been married at that his wife had died, so Clara didn't have to make a long, detailed explanation about why she didn't want to push him.

"Still," Nina said conversationally after she put the movie back on. "He is a man. I'm surprised he hasn't jumped you like the Beast in the snow."

"I really want you to see a therapist about your obsession with this snow beast sex scenario."

The Doctor picked her up in a limousine even though she lived thirty minutes from the centre of town. Clara had tried to talk sense into him, but this was the sort of man who spend God knows how many hundreds of pounds on a table for a charity event that, Clara didn't realize until the night of, members of the Royal Family had attended in the past.

"Are you serious?" Clara said in a hushed tone once they were in the back of the limo and on the way back into town. "I'm not dressed to meet the Queen!"

"I doubt the Queen's gonna show. If anyone it'll be Princess Anne." Clara made a face, but the Doctor leaned a little closer to her. "And I _like_ your dress."

"Yeah?" she asked, smoothing down the silk skirt at her knee.

She had calculated how many hours of work paid for the little red number she was wearing and cringed every time the number floated through her head. Clara was going to go for a black strapless, but Nina had teased about how red might get the Doctor's heart pumping faster and Clara had swatted Nina on the bum with her handbag and then practically run to the cashier with the red gown in hand.

"I like what you're wearing too," she replied with a grin. "It fits the pattern."

Clara straightened his bow tie and the two naturally leaned in to each other. Forget his heart beating faster; she felt like hers was going to explode.

"Are you calling me predictable?"

Clara laughed the way one laughed when presented with one of life's great ironies. "Yes, that's exactly what I was saying. I can't believe we're in a limo."

"Never been in a limo before?"

"Once, for my friend Shira's hen night. It wasn't exactly a sophisticated affair."

The Doctor chuckled. Clara tugged on his collar and kissed him, the sort of kiss that inspired the urge to skip the dinner and head straight to the nearest hotel.

Which, incidentally, the driver did.

"Why are we stopping?"

"Oh." The Doctor's eyes were foggy. "To pick up Jack and Ianto."

"Oh, right," Clara said, and the two sat back in their seats and fixed their hair, making themselves presentable for others.

Jack opened the passenger door and poked his head in, grinning. "Were you two making out?"

Clara didn't properly understand how big this charity event was until they arrived at the entrance. She felt like she was in a Bond film, complete with the dashing man in a tuxedo hanging from her arm as they walked up the carpeted steps to the entrance. The entryway was a large atrium, the sort you see in those old estate houses from the eighteenth century with stucco ceiling painted in the baroque style. Clara did her best to keep her jaw from hanging open, but she nearly shed her skin with excitement when she saw a familiar-looking blonde talking to someone from the press.

"Doctor," she said in a low voice. "Is that JK Rowling?"

"What? Where?" He whipped his head around until he spotted her. "Oh, yes! We should say hello!"

"What? No! Oh my god. This is worse than the Queen." She grasped his arm for support and looked him in the eye. "Oh my god, I might faint."

"You don't want to meet her?" the Doctor asked.

"Of course I do! But—What do you say to JK Rowling?"

The Doctor shrugged. "Thank you, I guess."

Clara felt like she was the only person freaking out about the most famous author in the world standing five feet from her until she heard Ianto squeal loudly behind her.

After that life-altering introduction, they entered the dining hall where there were dozens upon dozens of round tables dotted about the cavernous room. On the far wall was a stage where Clara expected the speakers would address the attendees about the charity that brought them all here that evening, and to the right of the stage, a sixteen piece string ensemble was playing the light sort of music that was pretentious enough to be fancy but relaxed enough to set a comfortable mood.

"This is really, really fancy," Clara said quietly to Jenny as the Doctor helped her into her chair at their table. "Am I the only one who feels out of place by how bloody fancy this all is?"

Jenny shook her head and leaned towards Clara. "I'm pretty sure this salad fork costs more than two month's pay."

Clara laughed but didn't doubt her. She glanced over at the Doctor, who was taking his seat beside her, and when their eyes met he smiled. Clara still felt like there was so much she didn't know about him, but when he looked at her, and yet she hadn't run into the other direction yet. That had to count for something.

Dinner was a life-changing event. Clara had the chicken with some sort of red berry sauce that made her want to die, because this had to be what heaven tasted like. She would have said as much but the Doctor kept punctuating conversation with _mmms_ and _oh my gods_ and other sorts of noises that were drawing attention. When Jack asked if there was someone under the table, the Doctor stopped chewing, looked extremely confused, and then turned redder than the sauce.

Clara tried not to tear up when the speaker stood up and started a slide show about the hundreds of people suffering from the illness that for which they were raising awareness and funds to sponsor the search for a cure. She often forgot how lucky she was to be the happy, healthy person she was. Life is a battle, but some people have to fight harder than others.

After the presentation, every erupted into polite applause and the band started playing again. Chairs scraped across the floor and people stood up and started to dance. Ianto pulled on Jack's necktie until he followed him to the floor and Jack turned to the others with a wink and said, "Someone's had too much to drink." Jenny and Vastra were propping each other up, laughing behind their hands and their near empty glasses of wine.

The Doctor wrapped his arm around Clara and smiled, that sort of crooked grin that barely stretched the corners of his lips but made his eyes look heavy. "Would you like to dance?"

"Depends. I don't know any quadrilles."

The Doctor chuckled and took her hand, leading her to the floor where he wrapped his arms around her in a casual embrace. Clara smiled and closed her eyes, leaning into him as they swayed gently to the music. She felt all of the wine from dinner coursing luxuriously through her veins and a warm contentment settling into her belly. The Doctor had a particular scent that was masked by the crisp, clean fabric of the tuxedo he was wearing, and Clara wondered when it was she'd grown accustomed to his smell.

The tune they were playing was familiar, but Clara couldn't place it until she heard the Doctor singing softly into her ear.

_"Love me tender,  
Love me dear,  
Tell me you are mine.  
I'll be yours through all the years,  
Till the end of Time."_

Clara bit her lip and grinned. She gently stroked the back of his neck with her fingers and continued to sway with him until the song ended. When the next song started playing, the Doctor made no move to leave the Dance floor, but Clara leaned back to smile up at him.

"I've never heard Elvis played by a string quartet."

"Well, then you've never lived," he replied jokingly.

"It seems odd to be putting so much money into something like this, when all of the money should go to finding these people a cure I feel like we should be paying twice as much for paper plates filled with casserole."

The Doctor chuckled. "Yeah, in an ideal world."

Clara stared up at him, her eyes searching his for the longest time. "Why do you work in IT?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I know you're not some average company employee, Doctor. I'd only been working for TARDIS Industries a month before I started suspecting you were more invested than you led people to believe." The Doctor bowed his head and frowned, but Clara pressed on. "I'm not judging you or anything, I'm just curious."

"No, I know you are. I'm strange and secretive and you really don't deserve to have to deal—"

"Hey," she interrupted, tapping his chin to get him to look at her again. "If you don't want to say…"

The Doctor sighed. "I'm not a businessman, Clara. I never really wanted to run the company, it was just an idea I had. It was my partner, Rose, who got the whole thing running."

"Rose? Rose Tyler? The CEO?"

Clara had suspected that the Doctor was one of the higher ups in the company, but she'd never imagined he'd been the one to start the bloody thing.

The Doctor nodded, the faintest of smiles on his lips. "Yeah. She knew how to talk to people, while I was the one who developed the software. We made quite a team, me and her."

Clara sensed something more than professional longing in his tone. "What changed?"

He shrugged. "We did. I stopped coming to meetings, she stopped expecting me too, she fell in love with David from research, and we really don't speak anymore. We don't hate each other or anything, we just… Drifted apart."

"David from research? That's… Wow."

The Doctor practically snorted. "The one part you highlight from that story."

"What?" she asked defensively with a laugh.

"Don't act like I didn't see you flirting with him in the coffee shop."

"When?"

"A few months ago… September? August."

Clara stared at him in amazement. "Were you watching me?"

The Doctor stiffened primly. "I wasn't _watching_ you. I was minding my own business when I saw you come in and start chatting him up."

"I wasn't chatting him up!"

"Oh, please," he replied with a grin.

Clara tucked her tongue against the inside of her cheek and shook her head, grinning incredulously. The Doctor touched the side of her face and looked into her eyes, his expression softening.

"I'm sorry I'm so odd."

"Me too."

His brow furrowed and Clara chuckled. He was opening up to her and apologising for his shortcomings; something she'd anticipated and now hated herself for expecting from him. She was due some answers, yes, but she knew that he was trying to be more open and honest with her. For all that she didn't know about him, Clara felt she knew ten times more.

"Do you want to get out of here?"

"Let me tell the others," he replied without hesitation. Clara pressed her fingers to her lips and chuckled as he ran off.

The moment the door to the limo closed behind them, the Doctor looked at Clara with a sort of breathless grin and said, "Where to?"

"I dunno," Clara replied, feeling adventurous. "Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere you want to go."

"Flirt," she replied with an accusatory grin. "I dunno—we're all dressed up. Want to go out for one more drink?"

"I know just the place."

The Doctor told the driver to take them to the Savoy. Clara took his hand when he helped her out of the limo but shook her head. "Now you're just showing off."

They ordered cocktails at the bar, where they stayed for half an hour talking about their friends and a variety of random things that came to their heads during conversation. They met with an Australian couple who were already a few drinks in and who had a few stories to share as well. They stayed and talked to them for another half hour before the Doctor spotted Clara yawning.

"Tired?"

She gave a non-committal shrug in response. The Doctor placed his hand at her waist and spoke in her ear so that she could hear over the noise at the bar, "I could get a room, if you'd like."

Clara met his eyes. "Yes. Definitely. Lead the way."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

Clara practically skipped to the lifts after they'd checked in. She tightened her fingers on the Doctor's as they maneuvered down the corridor, releasing a throaty giggle when he nearly toppled into a couple coming out of the lifts.

"You are _drunk_," she said accusingly.

"Oi, you're drunker," he retaliated. "You've had as much as me and you're like…" He pinched his fingers together. "This big."

Clara tugged him into the lift before the doors closed and wrapped her arms around his neck. The Doctor placed his hands at her waist and Clara giggled against his lips, although he stole her breath away when he leaned into the kiss and made her forget why anything was ever funny ever.

"Mmm, Doctor," she said breathlessly, breaking the kiss.

"What?"

"The thing… it isn't going _ding, ding_."

"What?" he replied in a higher pitch, his perplexity peaking. "Oh, we didn't push the button."

He leaned over and pressed the number 3, which now glowed a dim yellow as the lift started to rise. Clara brought his attention back to her with a smile.

"Sing to me some more."

"Um, I, ahh… _I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts…_"

Clara sprayed his face with laughter. "What? You're singing the coconut song?"

"It was the first thing that popped into my head!"

"Oh, how to shut you up?" she said before tugging on his collar and kissing him roughly. The lift was taking far too long for her liking. Clara was on the verge of feeling out for the emergency stop button when the lift doors finally opened on their floor.

The Doctor grabbed her hand and they practically ran down the hall, both of them laughing at their childlike energy. Clara leaned against his arm as he fumbled with the door key and sucked in a slow breath when the door opened to their room.

"Oh, my stars," she said, abandoning him for a moment to look around the room.

Her eyes were quickly drawn to the window, which opened to an excellent view of the Thames and the streets below. The Doctor wrapped his arms around her middle and kissed her neck.

"Do you like it?" he asked.

"I love it," she replied, turning in his arms. "Although I like anywhere I go with you."

"Even that Chinese place on Brick Lane?"

"Eww, no," she replied with a laugh. Her stomach churned at the memory.

"I just… Wanted this to be a night to remember," he added.

Clara bit her lower lip and grinned. "Oh, I'm sure it will be."

They kissed. Clara slipped her hands under the lapels of his jacketed and he shrugged back to help her slip it off. She tossed it to the armchair by the window with a flourish before grabbing either side of his face and kissing him hard. The Doctor's arms wrapped tightly around her, lifting her off the ground as their breaths became frequent and shallow.

"Go to the bed," she suggested breathlessly.

He only needed to take two steps backward before his knees hit the bed and he sank into a seating position, Clara splayed on top of his lap. She sat back so that she could loosen his bow tie, but her brows knit together with frustration as she tried to find the end.

"How do you get this thing off?" she asked with a laugh of frustration.

The Doctor helped her. Clara tossed the silk tie towards the arm chair with his jacket, but it fell short about two feet. She started unbuttoning his shirt, and halfway down, she lowered her lips to his neck to taste his skin.

His fingers fumbled with the zipper on the back of her dress. Clara stood and pulled the dress over her head, then took a great deal of care draping it over his jacket on the armchair.

"Worried about the dry cleaning bill?" the Doctor quipped.

"Shut up," she replied before straddling his waist and kissing him again.

They discarded the rest of their clothes with a great deal less care. The Doctor pushed her hair away from her face and Clara gasped against his lips as he lowered himself against her. She didn't know if it was because she had too much to drink or because she hadn't had sex in so long, but she nearly started crying.

He whispered her name into her hair between gasps as he moved against her. Clara clutched him tightly to her, her fingers pressing into the soft skin behind his shoulder blades as her body sank deeper into the bed sheets.

Time stopped. The Doctor's body sank into hers and they both released heavy breaths that mingled together.

"Oh, Clara," he said, tenderly touching the side of her face before placing a gentle kiss against her lips.

She met his eyes. There was something she wanted to say, an emotion she wanted to expressed because it was swelling inside of her like a balloon. She felt like her chest was going to explode. But she didn't know what to say.

It was still dark when she heard the Doctor groan in her ear, startling her awake. He pulled his arm away from where it was wrapped around her middle stood from the bed.

"What's the matter?" Clara asked in a groggy whisper. She felt incredibly thirsty.

"Phone," he muttered, searching through his pockets until he found his phone. His body tensed when he saw the name on the caller ID and he answered immediately. "Hello?"

Clara covered a yawn and propped up on her elbow, watching him. She didn't realize something was wrong until he hung up the phone.

"Doctor?"

He smiled tightly. "Go back to sleep."

"Is everything okay?"

"It'll be fine," he replied, slipping back under the covers and wrapping his arms around her. "Get some sleep."

Clara settled back onto her pillow with a frown. Shortly before she fell back to sleep, she noticed that the Doctor was holding her a little more tightly than before.

She woke up later that morning when sun was shining behind the curtains. There was someone at the door around the corner, and Clara could hear the Doctor thanking him before the door closed and the Doctor appeared with a tray from room service.

"Good morning," he said.

Clara sat up, making sure the sheet was still covering her. He'd more than seen them the night before, but there was a time and a place for bared breasts.

"What did you do?" she asked almost admonishingly with a smile.

The Doctor sat on the edge of the bed and lifted the lid from the tray. On it was a plate full of the fanciest breakfast food Clara had ever seen. Her smile fell when she noticed there was only one plate.

"Are you not eating?"

The Doctor's smile tightened. "I've got to go out of town."

"Oh. Is this about the call you got last night?"

"I'll probably be gone for a few days," he replied, evasively.

Clara attempted to smile, but it didn't quite meet her eyes. "Doctor…"

"I'm sorry."

He kissed her cheek before standing. He was already dressed in his tux from the night before.

Clara blinked rapidly, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. "Doctor, are you okay?"

She wanted to ask if _they_ were okay, but she was barely managing to speak without bursting into tears already.

"I'm always okay," he replied before walking out the door.

Clara stared at the direction he'd left for a long time before dropping her eyes to the plate of food in her lap.

"What just happened?" she asked, as if her toast could answer.

"Clara? Is that you?"

"Who else would it be?" Clara called back as she closed the door to her flat behind her. She removed her coat and hung it on a hook in the foyer as Nina bounced down the stairs.

"Didn't come home last night _and_ you're wearing the same thing you left in? I don't need to ask what happened to you," Nina said delightedly, clapping her hands softly with approval.

Clara flashed her a little smile. "What's got you in such a good mood?"

Nina beamed at her and stuck out her bare leg. "I just shaved my legs. Go on. _Feel_ them. They're smoother than silk."

Clara lifted a hand and rubbed the skin above Nina's knee. "They are smooth," she agreed.

"Hey. You okay?" Nina asked, frowning with concern.

Clara lowered her gaze, shrugged, and shook her head. "I dunno. He just sort of… ran off."

"Oh. After you two…?"

Clara breathed a little sound that was almost a laugh and nodded.

"Oh. I'm sorry," Nina said. "Would you like me to make you some tea?"

"No, thank you," Clara said with a little smile. Nina never knew what to do when Clara was upset; she always offered to make her tea. "I think I'll just take a shower and have a lie in for the rest of the morning."

She walked passed Nina up the stairs and then closed her bedroom door behind her. Clara looked at herself in the full-length mirror hanging from the door: her dress looked the same as it did the night before, but her hair and makeup were a mess.

She put her dress back in the plastic from the department store and wrapped herself in a towel before going into the bathroom. Once she was under the hot spray of the shower, Clara couldn't help but review the parts of the past few hours like the grim dailies from a movie shoot.

She started crying. Clara clutched her hands to her chest and bowed her head as her shoulders shook, her wet hair falling like a curtain over her face. The past twenty-four hours were full of so many wonderful, unforgettable memories, but all Clara could think about was how she and the Doctor had taken another step back.

Something bad had happened, she knew that much. Clara was worried for him, but she hated having to guess all of the details that were now affecting her life more than they did before. She did her best to be understanding, but he hadn't even turned to look back at her when he walked out the door. Part of her told her she was silly, but then the heartbroken part of her felt like she was never going to see him again.

The lift at work stopped at nearly every floor on the way up to marketing that morning. Clara stood in the back of the packed car, her thoughts a million miles away as she listened to the idle chatter about Princess Kate, stock figures, and the death of some wealthy aristocrat. When she sat at her desk, she felt an overwhelming urge to run into the bathroom and hide there for the rest of the day. She hated feeling this way.

She wished the Doctor would answer her calls.

Clara went to the coffee shop across the street for her lunch break. She ordered a latte and one of those cold sandwiches she never really liked and sat at a table in the back corner, watching the people moving around the shop while she ate. She kept checking her phone but she didn't have any new messages.

It was on the seventh check that her phone started ringing in her hand. It was from an unknown number.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is this Clara Oswald?"

"Yes, this is she."

"Hi. This is Dr. Martha Jones. I'm a friend of the Doctor's."

Clara forgot how to breathe. "Is he alright?"

"Oh no, he's fine. Jack Harkness told me I should call you."

"Why?" Clara asked, willing her heartbeat to slow down.

"I called him first but he's currently… indisposed."

"Is Jack alright?" Clara asked, feeling more panicked with each new word the woman said.

"He's currently in the hospital with a fractured spine."

"Oh, my god!" Clara said loudly, earning a few stares from the people sitting around her. She sank a little into her chair.

"Oh, don't worry about Jack; he's practically immortal. Honestly, it sounds a lot worse than it is.

"Clara, I'll get to the point. The Doctor just received some very bad news, and it is my opinion as his doctor and his friend that he shouldn't be alone right now. Jack said you would be the right person to call."

"I… Yes, I suppose I am. Where is he?"

"At the Black's Head in Nottingham. Look, he's going to know I'm the one who called you, but could you do me a favour and not remind him?"

Clara breathed a little laugh. "Yeah, sure."

After the call was over, Clara held her phone to her chin and stared blankly at a cracked tile on the floor. She was very much upset by the news that something horrible had happened to the Doctor, but the fact that she would be seeing him soon filled her with delight.

She just wished she knew what to expect.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

Clara's forehead pressed into the glass as she stared numbly out the train window. She had barely slept a wink the night before, her thoughts racing as she packed and repacked her suitcase. Every now and then, she would check her phone.

Still no messages.

She couldn't remember the last time they'd gone two days without talking. Just last week he'd started sending her messages through the company e-mail. Clara had been worried that they'd get caught chatting during company time, but then she remembered that 1) he was the one who would be monitoring the e-mails, and 2) she didn't know how much trouble she could get in for correcting him for the fifth time in a row about movie times.

Clara had sent him four texts and left two voicemails in the past two days, and that was all the result of great restraint. If the phone would ring forever until he picked up, she'd never hang up. She wanted to know what was so bad that he couldn't talk to her, because even though he wasn't the most forthcoming with his personal details, they had knocked down so many barriers that it felt almost unreal to have one thrust back up in no time at all. She thought she knew everything there was to know by now.

Well. Except his for his name.

"Next stop, Nottingham Station."

Clara blinked out of her stupor and sat up straight in her seat. The man sitting across from her noticed she was getting off so he hopped up to help her fetch her bag from the overhead luggage rack. Clara almost started weeping when she thanked him. She wished she'd been able to sleep on the train.

She caught a taxi to the pub where the Doctor was staying, and with each passing mile, she felt her heartbeat accelerate a little faster. What if he wasn't there? What if he was, but wouldn't see her? Or worse—what if he would see her, but all he did was ask her to leave?

She tipped the cabbie after he dropped her off at the pub. Clara stood on the pavement for a moment, looking to her left and right in case he was somewhere walking about. She didn't want him to see her first and run off. Clara wasn't rightly sure that he would do that, but considering that he was dodging her calls, it was a possibility.

Walking inside, she found herself in a rather ordinary pub, but considering the room they'd checked into at the Savoy, this place was practically a cardboard box in a back alley.

"Excuse me," she said to the man behind the bar. "I'm looking for a man who's staying here. He's called the Doctor?"

The man glanced at her and then back at the TV, on which a football match was playing. "Aren't any doctors here, love."

Clara frowned. "He might have given another name. John Smith?"

The man shook his head.

She dropped her bag onto a barstool and held her hand about a foot over her head. "He's about this tall, really rectangular face, brown hair, might be wearing a bow tie? He really likes them for some reason…"

"Oh, yeah. That bloke. I think he's still upstairs. Room 3."

Clara released a shaky breath of relief. "Thank you."

The wooden steps creaked beneath her boots as she walked up to the first floor. When she reached Room 3, Clara stared at the peeling paint around the number and considered turning around and leaving. She wasn't a coward, but life would be so much less painful if she could be.

Clara knocked three times on the door and then lowered her fist as if she'd burned her hand on the door. She reminded herself to breathe and not let her imagination get the best of her, but then she heard the floorboards creaking on the other side of the door.

Clara exhaled once, twice. "Doctor?" She could hear him breathing. "Please, I've come all this way."

She stepped back as the lock turned and he slowly cracked open the door. He met her eyes only for a moment. "How did you know I was here?"

"Dr Jones called me," she replied. _Shit, I wasn't supposed to tell him that._ "She said you shouldn't be alone."

He turned away from the door. "She should mind her own business."

Clara stood in the doorway, perplexed, before following him inside and shutting the door. The Doctor stood with his back to her, and she could tell by the way that he was standing that this wasn't going to be an easy conversation. She lowered her bag onto the floor next to the wardrobe and crossed the small space that separated them.

"I wouldn't have come if I wasn't worried myself," she said, placing her hand on his arm. The Doctor flinched. "You haven't returned any of my messages."

"I've been busy."

"Yeah, I can see that," Clara replied hotly. She sighed. "Doctor, I'm sorry. Whatever's happened, I'm really sorry. I wish you would just talk to me."

He turned away from the window, away from her, and walked over to the bed. He sat on the edge of it, the mattress springs squeaking loudly as he sank down. He wouldn't look at her.

Clara's lip trembled. She looked up at the wall over his head. "Doctor, have I done something wrong?"

"No."

"Really?" she replied with a nervous smile, sniffling. "Because that's not what it feels like to me."

"I don't know what to say, Clara."

"How about the truth?" she replied eagerly, walking over and kneeling down in front of him. She placed her hands over his and he didn't try to pull away, but he didn't squeeze his hands around hers. "You're not alright. And you're pushing me away, I can tell. I'm not an idiot."

"Then why won't you leave?"

His tone wasn't cruel; it was almost pathetically desperate. Clara's heart broke.

"Because I don't want to," she replied tearfully. "It's not fair, alright? After everything we've been through together, it's not fair for you to shut me out. Please, Doctor, just tell me what's happened."

He still wouldn't look at her, but the Doctor gingerly placed his fingers in her hair. Clara released a sigh of relief and leaned into his touch.

"My cousin. He died."

Clara inhaled shakily and released the breath in a huff. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you had a cousin."

"I never talked about my family much."

Clara was amazed at how he could speak with so little emotion in his voice. He said these things simply, like he was commenting on the weather to a complete stranger.

"Was he your only family?"

"Yes."

Clara sniffed, nodding sadly. "I'm sorry."

She lifted her fingers to his cheek and he flinched at her touch. The Doctor pulled his hand away from her head and abruptly stood. "I'm sorry you came all of this way. I'll pay for your cab back to the station and your return ticket."

"I don't want your money," she said, standing. "Doctor…"

She grabbed his hands and he tried to pull away from her. "Clara…" he said, his voice breaking.

"No," she pleaded. "Look at me."

"I can't."

"Why not?" she asked, her voice rising with exasperation.

His voice filled the room. _"Because I cannot lose you too!"_

Her eyes went round. Clara hadn't expected this, but within seconds she realized she was a fool not to have.

The Doctor slowly sank back onto the bed and fell forward against his knees, his sobs escaping his lips in shaky breaths.

"Doctor—"

"No!" he shouted through his tears. "I lose _everyone_, Clara. My parents, River, Rory and Amy… And now…? They're just gone. It's only ever going to me, so you should…" He sniffed, regaining some of his composure. "You should just leave. Leave before something bad happens to you too."

"Doctor," she said softly, calmly. "I'm not going to leave."

"Don't you get it?" he said, finally looking her in the eye. "I'm cursed, Clara." He lowered his eyes, shamefully. "Everyone who gets close to me dies or gets hurt so badly they can't bear to look at me anymore."

Clara stepped up to him and ran her fingers through his hair. "So you were just going to push me away?"

He sniffed. "Yes."

She cradled his head against her middle and the Doctor wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly to him as if she might drift away in the breeze. She understood what it felt like to be defeated by her own misery, but to see the same thing happen to someone she cared about broke her heart in a completely different way. Even though she wasn't the cause of his pain, she felt responsible for easing it. It was a responsibility she willingly accepted.

"Please don't cry," she said, laughing lightly to dispel the tension as she ran her fingers through his hair. "Or no—cry all you want. Just let me be here for you. Please, don't push me further away."

"I'm sorry," he said, his words muffled against her jumper.

"You're important to me too, you know."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Clara sat next to him on the bed. His eyes were red and puffy and still moist from his tears. She placed a comforting hand on the back of his neck.

"Have you slept?"

"Not really."

She frowned and bounced lightly on the edge of the mattress. "Bed's not really comfortable."

He chuckled wetly and tucked his chin against his chest. "No, it really isn't."

Clara smoothed his hair away from his face and the Doctor turned to her, meeting her eyes.

"It's okay," she insisted softly. "You'll be okay."

They leaned towards each other and closed their eyes, their lips meeting for a chaste kiss that served as a comfort to them both. The Doctor pressed his forehead to hers and sighed, then asked if she was tired. Clara replied with a groan, and he laughed. She took off her jacket and shoes while the Doctor pulled back the covers so that they could slip into bed.

They wrapped their arms around each other, and within minutes, they were asleep.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

The smell of her skin was the first thing he registered upon waking. The Doctor's nose was pressed into the hollow of her throat, her pulse a comforting rhythm that nearly lulled him back to sleep.

He pulled himself away from her and checked his phone on the nightstand – no missed calls. Why he expected any, he didn't know. Perhaps because he'd been missing dozens of calls during the past few days…

He rolled back onto his side and looked at Clara's face, so calm and relaxed in sleep. He hadn't enjoyed shutting her out over these past few days, but even though he was glad to have her lying next to him, the Doctor still wasn't convinced that it hadn't been the right thing to do.

His excuse was that he didn't want her to get hurt. The truth was, he didn't know if he could open his heart to anyone else only to have it broken again. His heart had poorly rebuilt itself over the years and he'd learned to put up defenses, to keep people far away so it wouldn't sustain any damage.

The thing was, his heart never felt so whole as it did when people like Clara were in his life. Those golden days with Amy and Rory, with River, even back with Rose… they had been so perfect, or at least nearly so. But where he used to smile, he now smiled sadly. The Doctor felt like "sadly" described the way he did anything these days.

He placed his palm on the side of Clara's face and smoothed his thumb over her cheek, biting back a chuckle when she frowned almost comically and gave released a tiny, tired groan.

"Sorry," he said as she stirred. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"Whatimeissih?" she asked with a stretch and a yawn.

"Half past three."

"In the morning?" Clara asked with alarm, jolting upright.

"No, no! In the afternoon."

"Oh."

Clara settled back against her pillow and folded her hands in her lap. He smiled when she met his eyes. The Doctor's heart thudded in his chest and he realized that Clara hadn't been the one putting cracks in his defenses these past several months like he had allowed himself to believe; if his heart beat any harder, it would soon knock them all down.

They both showered and changed before going down the road for breakfast/dinner. The Doctor could tell Clara was filled with questions that he was surprised she didn't ask, and he worried that he'd scared her too much this weekend and now she'd walk on eggshells around him, afraid of setting him off. The Doctor frowned at his half empty plate and remembered how when he was a boy, he'd go hide in a room in his parents' house and stay really quiet when he heard them nearby calling out for him. He'd hide for hours, usually because he was upset and he didn't feel like they'd understand. He'd always been so scared that they'd be angry with him.

His phone rang when Clara asked if he wanted to get coffee and the Doctor heaved a sigh at the caller ID. He excused himself and went outside to answer the call, only speaking in curt replies for the majority of the conversation. He wasn't angry with Martha, not really, but he hated how much he now associated her with this part of his life. He and Martha had been great friends once upon a time. Now this served as the only real connection between them, and he resented her for it. It wasn't fair, but the Doctor was fairly certain he didn't feel the way one should about these things.

When he returned to the table, Clara was signing the receipt.

"No, you should have let me pay," he said almost sadly.

"You always pay for everything," she pointed out as she calculated the tip. "I can pay sometimes, you know."

The Doctor didn't argue with her, but he made a mental note to never leave her alone with the bill again. It wasn't a point of pride with him; he just didn't see the point of having all of this money if he was going to let people who worked harder than him spend theirs on things that wouldn't even make a dent in his bank account.

It was drizzling when they stepped back onto the street. Clara hugged her coat tightly to her chest and shivered, and the Doctor wrapped his arm around her and held her close as they walked, neither of them saying a word.

"So, when is it?" she asked softly, turning curious eyes to meet his.

He didn't need elaboration. "Tomorrow, 10am."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

His knee-jerk reaction was to say no, in fact something inside of him practically screamed so in response, but he had trouble forming the word with his lips. The Doctor looked down at the pavement as they walked and ignored the tight feeling in his chest as best he could.

"They're burying him in the family plot."

"I know," she replied.

"No… See, that's the thing." He stopped walking and removed his arm from her shoulders. "I haven't told you anything about my family. I don't tell anyone, Clara. Not even my name. And there's… there's a _reason_ I keep it secret."

"I know."

He grew more frustrated at her calm understanding than at anything she'd ever said to him. "_How_ does this not bother you?" he nearly shouted.

"It _does_ bother me," she replied, her voice rising but her tone still calm. "You've been nothing but this ball of secrets since I've met you."

"Then why do you even bother?" he asked, not cruelly, but genuinely curious. "Why don't you just find someone else who can make it through the day without lying to everyone he cares about?"

"Have you ever really lied to me?" she challenged.

"Yes," he replied, sadly.

Clara shook her head. "I don't believe that."

"You're wrong."

She took his hand in hers and kept her gaze level with his. "You keep your secrets, but I don't believe you've ever really lied to me. Not about things that mattered."

The Doctor bowed his head and Clara placed her hand on the side of his face, forcing him to meet her eyes.

"And you… You _really_ matter to me. Even though you push me away."

"I'm sorry," he said desperately.

Clara stepped forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, lingering for a moment before pulling back and meeting his eyes. "I know, alright? You've just got to let me forgive you; it's hard enough without you putting up a fight," she added teasingly, and the Doctor couldn't help but laugh.

He took her hands in his and squeezed them reassuringly, but released a heavy sigh. This was one of those moments where he felt like he was going to collapse like a plate of glass that had been cracked, and with the simplest tap, he'd fall to pieces on the floor.

Clara was special. He trusted her more than he had trusted anyone in a long time, or at least he wanted to trust her more than he'd ever wanted to trust anyone. It wasn't that she gave him reason _not_ to trust her, but trust wasn't something that came easily to him.

Still, he was now met with the choice: tell her everything, or lose her completely. She could forgive him as many times as she wanted, but the Doctor knew if he shut her out of this, then they would slowly drift apart until she was gone and he was once again alone. The thought made him tighten his grip on her hands. Clara squeezed back.

"I grew up here, you know."

"Yeah, you said."

The Doctor tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. "I did, didn't I?"

"I've weaseled some things out of you," she teased, but her smile fell quickly, her features falling into something hopeful and attentive.

The Doctor took her left hand in his right and slowly started walking down the road. "I haven't been here since Harry—my cousin, Harold—was shot."

"He was shot?"

"Yeah, by his wife."

"Oh, my god."

The Doctor merely nodded. "He wasn't the same after that. He had to move to a sanitarium where he could be looked after. I tried to get him at home care, but he was traumatized; couldn't stay in the house where she died. Lucy—his wife—killed herself shortly after this all happened."

Clara didn't say anything, but he could tell she was horrified. The Doctor wished it could horrify him; these were all just dull facts to him now.

"It was a blood clot that killed him," he continued as he led her down another street. They had a long walk ahead of them, but there was still a lot to explain. "I thought he'd die a lot sooner than he did, to be honest, and I guess I just got used to him being there. That one last tie to my old life…"

Clara didn't say anything as he spoke, but he knew she was listening. Every now and again, he would look over and find her looking up at him with wide eyes.

"When my parents died, his parents—my aunt and uncle—took me in. They were really… horrible people. I ran away after barely a year and Harry never forgave me. After that, I hacked into the necessary databases and created a new identity for myself. I sort of had to, otherwise I would have been forced back here or into foster care. I lived on my own for a long time, and I guess I sort of got used to it.

"That's… one reason I don't want anyone to know my name," he said reluctantly, but it wasn't the main reason. The Doctor wasn't sure he knew what the main reason was anymore—they'd become innumerable.

He stopped in front of the manicured gate and found himself holding his breath, as if he didn't want to breathe the air surrounding his childhood home. He could still turn back—he hadn't told her where they were going, and she'd never asked. The Doctor smiled lightly, figuring that somehow, she already knew. Clara was too clever for her own good.

It had gotten dark. The gate was locked and it was still drizzling lightly, but only enough to where they were both just slightly damp after their long walk. Clara looked through the bars of the gate and could barely see past the winding hedges and the large trees that obscured the view of the house.

"This was my parents house. It's technically mine now, although it depends on which me you ask. It's in my name."

"Your real name?" she said.

The Doctor nodded and then started speaking before he could stop himself. "My name is Tony Saxon, and this – _all_ of this – is what I've been hiding." He curled his hands around hers and shifted uncomfortably as Clara stared at him, her expression unreadable. "Say something?"


End file.
